


hey, you in ten years

by daeniera



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Annabeth Chase & Nico di Angelo Friendship, Canon Universe, Character Study, Coming of Age, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nico di Angelo & Percy Jackson Friendship, Nico-centric, Non-Explicit Sex, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soulmates, Stars, Suicide Attempt, literally all i wanna say is that nico and will are soulmates, nico loves the stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29608665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daeniera/pseuds/daeniera
Summary: At exactly four forty-four in the morning, he was born. Eyes wide with curiously, teeny tiny hands stretching out for his mother. He was born under a field of stars, under the indigo night sky. His mother watched dearly at her infant son, a product of her love and loss, cradling him softly under the pale starlight.Nico di Angelo was born to love the stars. Bright, fiery balls of spirit and hope, shining their brightest until they died.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	hey, you in ten years

**Author's Note:**

> gods fucking dammit... this fic took 99% of my energy away 
> 
> hi! so this was the big project ive been working on. it was such a mesmerising journey to write this: to research up actual paragraphs and key dates from the riordanverse, to learn how to portray nico's character, giving small sneak peaks to my loveliest friends !! this was a pain in the ass to write- my mental stability and sleep were GONE when i started writing this. i've cried over finishing it, doubted myself while writing it, and i have done so many beta checks for this fic. a horrifying pain in the ass, but the result is so perfect that i am so happy with what i did.
> 
> this story follows nico's POV from titan's curse (PJO) onwards. some of it is self inserted and not actually canon, but i've tried my very best to keep up with everything that is canon in the original series. this story also contains mentions and TWs for PTSD, self harm, suicide attempts and non-graphic mentions of sex. yes, this is more like a coming-of-age fic, one where i write out nico's character and how he grows up slowly. 
> 
> set from the year 2007-2017, this story takes you on a journey through the tens years of nico's life. i recommend reading this to moses sumney's hey me in 20 years, or any sufjan stevens song. 
> 
> © daeniera

## PART I / A STAR WAS BORN

**December 18th, 2015.**

“So.” 

In front of him, his counsellor moves to press record on her phone, the blaring red clock signalling him to begin speaking. Nico frowns at the gadget- he’s never been one for technology, never been one for future advances and devices- he really would prefer it if they did this by pen and paper. He wonders how demigod psychiatrists like her can cope with all the nervous amount of pressure he’s facing, how he’s begun to build himself slowly from broken chaos. 

“Nico, I’ll be evaluating you for your last counselling session. We will touch base on certain topics, such as your sister, your relationships with other people, especially your personal identity. You are alright with this, yes?” 

She raises a brow at Nico, as if expecting him to back down, to refuse to speak of the past memories. He won’t back down from this, ever again. It’s his story, his tale to tell, and his past, present, and future combined all haphazardly together, between wound up lines of deceased friends, incredible journeys, and how he finally, after years and years of impossible times and scraped knees, picked himself up off the ground and continued walking. 

“Yes. I am ready to be evaluated.” He speaks firmly, removing the urge to play with the skeleton ring on his finger. It’s now or never, a chance for him to finally accept reality as it is, and he’s more than ready to accept it.

“Okay, Nico. I want you to tell me about Bianca….”

________________________

**January 28th, 1932.**

At exactly **four forty-four** in the morning, he was born, eyes wide with curiously, teeny tiny hands stretching out for his mother. Under a field of stars, under the indigo night sky. His mother watched dearly at her infant son, a product of her love and loss, cradling him softly under the pale starlight.

Niccolo di Angelo was born to love the stars. Bright, fiery balls of spirit and hope, shining their brightest until they died. 

He has no memories of his mother except one flimsy, peculiar fragment. A memory of him, aged six or seven, sitting on a balcony in Italy, next to his mother. Maria was smiling patiently at him, using her fingers to trace out constellation after constellation, the younger version of him repeating the names slowly but surely.

Nico di Angelo was born to love the stars, and to die with love for them.

________________________

**December 18th, 2007.**

Nico is ten years old, naive and innocent, exploring Camp Half Blood’s forest, when he first feels it. The stars shine bright through the midnight sky. 

A stab of pain rushes through his whole body. The pain isn’t sharp. It doesn’t feel as if he has an open wound, but it resonates deeply within his heart, heart-wrenching, gut-clenching. He falls on the dirt and mud trail, hands clutching his chest, a raw scream coming out, anguished and in pain. He knows he’s not been stabbed, not been hurt in any single way, but the feeling he feels comes from deep inside his heart. He is inexperienced, not used to this type of pain.

He realises later, that was his first heartbreak. 

He watches, kneeling on the dirt floor with tears streaming down his eyes, as figures wander out of trees, all clad in different clothes across the century, floating all around him. The figures all try to speak, some lips mutterly fast, while others seem to be laughing and sneering, mocking his figure. 

He closes his eyes and sees the one vision that had been recurring in his nightmares. A dry deadly dangerous dessert, a teetering sign that spelt GILA CLAW, ARIZONA, mountains and mountains of waste, scrap material. He can hear fast paced footsteps, screaming, cries of anguish. He knew something was wrong, horrifyingly wrong, and yet he couldn’t put it to his lips. 

It coursed through him slowly but surely, like poison rotting in his system, forcing his guts to hurl out everything. He doesn’t know how to process it. The pain comes and goes in shreds, screaming and clawing at his heart. It feels like rotten hell, like he was experiencing what it felt like to die over and over again. He looks up at the figures shifting around, all gathered near him, brushing against each other, waiting for a word from him.

“Speak.” He croaked, throat dry as he turned to the side and hurled out the remains of his breakfast. Immediately, the spirits engulf him in a flurry of words, snarls and hissing. He doesn’t manage to hear most of the conversation thrown at him, but all he needs to hear are bits and pieces.

_“Falling, falling, falling.”_

_“Her spirit resides in the Underworld”_

_“The boy is not powerful enough to serve us. He is useless.”_

He knows in that second, that his sister was no longer alive. The stabbing pain in his heart only multiplied, as he screamed in anguish, throat raw from pain, fists slamming and punching the earth beneath him. He doesn’t know what to say, what to feel, what to do. His emotions surround him in a vast arrangement- sorrow, loathe, pain, jealousy, disgrace, and a small, tiny, flicker of hope for his sister to be alive.

The dirt road in front of him cracks- splits wide open, fissuring and booming through. He watches as the road splits into two, swallowing the spirits in front of him, clawing for mercy as they take their last breaths of the fresh air in the living world.

Nico runs away from the scene, eyes rimmed red with tears, mouth sulfuric with the taste of acid, bleary and tired. He doesn’t make it to the edge of the forest before his body shuts down, his feet trip clumsily in front of him, eyes snapping shut, and he falls into a deep slumber. 

In his dreams, the smiling face of his dead sister haunted him.

________________________

**June 6th, 2008.**

Nico has never felt so useless in his whole life. Now, he felt even more hopeless, crushing under manipulation, sneered words of courage and false hope.

He stared at the skeletons below him, mountains of dirt and rubble flying past him and landing on nearby surfaces. He started to believe his father’s words, snarls of discontent and rage directed towards him. _You are useless, boy. Your sister would have been the better fit for this role._ And yet now, his mind was fraying at its edges, pain seeping through vivid numbness, his head racketing with thready pulses of an oncoming headache. 

“Is it deep enough yet?” He snapped, looking at the ghost besides him. Minos, who reminded him of every odd teacher he ever had, undermining his skills and talent, sneering at his work. The ghost’s cruel eyes shone over the pit, as if pursuing in thought. 

“Nearly, my lord.’ Nico watched as Minos purred with affection towards him, a hand hovering over Nico’s shoulder. The act reminded him of a father he never had, a person to protect him from the pain that he experienced. “But, my lord, I tell you, this is **unnecessary**. You already have **me** for advice.” 

Nico remembers a wise tale his mother had told him as a child, of people using others for their benefit, manipulating them until they had all they wanted in life. The tree who kept giving back, used until it rotted, disgusting traces of sickly pale tree bark left behind. Nico felt as if he was being pushed to his limits, teetering like a puppet on strings, controlled by Minos. 

Nico felt wasted. He felt like a doll tossed to the side, a spare part, useless and not needed. His mind on the brink of losing all that he loved, and the need to have Bianca back at his side didn’t perish enough. 

The stars reflect in the pool of fizzy cola he’s thrown in- the image rippled slightly, but still shining as bright as ever. He found the stars as a sign of hope- a sign that he can get his sister back, a sign that he would meet his sister again- one way or the other.

He closed his eyes and began to chant.

________________________

**August 17th, 2009.**

Sometimes, there are happy moments in his life. Joyful, euphoric moments that come and go, slipping through his fingers like quicksand.

This is one of them. Percy sits next to him, hungrily wolfing down a plate of food. They’re sitting on the grassy floor, amongst plates and plates of roast beef, baked potatoes, french fries, a whole buffet waiting for Nico to sink his teeth in. He takes a plate kindly offered by Hestia, and watches as Percy and Hestia engage in a quiet conversation about his future tasks to save the Olympians.

He listens quietly to their conversation, adding a small word in here and there. His focus is on the night sky, and how beautiful it looked- a vast, endless, and unknown universe, stretching further beyond the naked human eye. It beckons him, welcomes him towards the serenity and quietness of it’s glow, of its countless stars making up the constellations, of the moon shining bright above him. 

Even in chaotic situations like this, the world on the brink of collapsing, where all the events would climax into something catastrophic, the stars still kept it’s familiar pattern, following Nico closely, keeping him safe and away from harm. The stars were the last gift given to him from his mother, an eternal gift made for him to love and to cherish. 

And yet the stars mocked and took away every important life to him. His mamma died underneath the stars in an explosion, where Hades had failed to shield his lover alongside their children. Bianca died overlooking the night sky, her eyes glassy and wide, trapped in an automaton, failing to see the stars for her last waking moment.  
The stars took away the people he held dear to him, tried to hold close, tried to protect with all his might. Just like his mother told him, the stars would only burn their brightest when they were about to extinguish. People would love him to the most and then disappear. He was destined to always be alone. 

So he sits quietly at the Jackson’s kitchen table, watching as Percy’s step-father pours them glasses of fizzy lemonade, the taste of it sweet and tangy on his lips. He doesn’t touch the lemonade after drinking a small sip, the taste all too familiar, reminding him of times where he would run around the corridors of a hotel with his older sister, stealing bottles and bottles of pink fizzy lemonade, sitting on the outer terrace and watching shooting stars zip past them.

He makes an awkward joke here and there, about Theseus forgetting to raise white sails, and listens to Percy’s mother talk to her son gently. The situation reminds him painfully about his own mother, how his mother would stroke his hair softly while they were watching the stars, how she left soft kisses on his forehead when he demanded for a goodnight’s kiss, how she taught him English slowly and surely, not berating him when he pronounced the words wrongly. 

He watches silently as Sally Jackson hugs Percy tightly, all too reminded of how his mother died after hugging him for one last time.

________________________

**August 22nd, 2009.**

The war ends, quickly and momentously, and all Nico can hope for is a new place to call his home, a place for him to stay and believe in the possibility of a good future. 

He performs the funeral rites for the dead, sealing their lips each with a soft promise that their suffering stops here, that they’ll have an amazing afterlife in Elysium, where all the heroes belong after fighting to their own deaths. 

It’s melancholic, to be so deeply submerged in death and yet to not feel any of it.

Nico trains day and night, and he tries to maintain better control of his powers. He summons skeleton after skeleton, challenging the skeletons to fight him one by one, sometimes group by group. He practices different styles of fighting, learns how to wield two swords at the same time, learns how to disarm his opponent in less than a blink of an eye. 

He meets new demigods, befriends new people. Chiara Benvenuti is older than him by a few years, Italian and free spirited. She teaches him how to gamble- it’s the only skill that she’s fairly talented at, teasing him playfully in a mix of Italian and English when he loses against her, teaches him modernised Italian slang, and occasionally spars with him. He finds her as a friend, an older companion, one to teach him how to live life to the fullest, to enjoy every drop of it.

Drew Tanaka comes to him in the form of very much needed advice on how to spar. She’s lost her older sister in the war, and she doesn’t want to disappoint her fellow siblings, now being appointed Head Counsellor of Aphrodite at meekly the age of thirteen. She’s gone through too much death and too much loss, losing several of her siblings in one go, realising that her sister has betrayed nearly the whole camp. He coaxes her into holding a sword for the first time, teaching her every attack and every defense, playing easy against her to let her secure her first win. He sees a young girl, misunderstood, too angry at the world revolving around her. He tries to help her, building her weak and shy demeanour into something much more feisty.

Will Solace- older than him by a year, legendary healer boy, annoying son of Apollo, blonde hair tousled on a good Wednesday afternoon, blue eyes shining with curiosity. He’s passionate, gentle, a little bit snarky and an insufferable know-it-all, and his personality slightly infuriates Nico. Like that time when Will refused to let him leave the infirmary after noticing minor cuts left by a dracaena, or when Nico accidentally twists his ankle after a long run in the woods, and Will double, triple, quadruple checks it just to make sure there isn't a possible fracture. 

Will Solace is a boy he tries to trust, tries to make small conversation in the hours between five to seven in the morning, when he is too awake to fall asleep, arms and legs overpowered by demigod instincts to _run, run, run_ , when Will is too awake in the early mornings, small tears slipping past the latter’s eyes, crying quietly about his brother’s death. 

Demigods mourn death and loss in different ways. Some busy themselves into working at the Infirmary, patching up every single cut they can spy on, delaying their work so they return to their cabins when everyone’s asleep. Some cry silently on porches, on the once cherry red strawberry fields, mourning their lost friends, friends that have slipped away from their grasp way too easily. Some don’t sleep, gripping on their blades a bit too tightly at night, spin around and raise their swords defensively when a sudden loud noise is heard. 

Nico mourns his sister’s death every single year, lighting a small candle next to the only photo he has left of Bianca, spraying Holy Water around the darkened rooms of Cabin Thirteen. It’s crazy to believe in another religion when Greek mythology exists right in front of his eyes, but Nico does it to relinquish and preserve the memories of his sister and mother, hoping that the memories of them never leave his mind.

He’s frozen to the core when he sees Percy and Annabeth kissing one day, lips locked tightly. Percy’s hands are placed gently on her waist, a romantic gesture, and Annabeth’s hands are curled in Percy’s black hair, a bit too risque for Nico’s eyes. (He still practices Catholicism, after all.) He clears his throat quietly, ears tinted a bright red, face blushing softly. He’s a bit too embarrassed to see this happen- his two closest friends, lips swollen and slightly messy, hair tousled and light.

He ignores the burning hatred bubbling in his stomach- an anger rising slowly in the bottom of his throat, scratching and clawing at his backside. He feels jealous- jealous that Annabeth is the one to kiss Percy, jealous of how tightly Annabeth is clinging onto his wrist, jealous of how happy and _in love_ the both of them look. 

“Oh- Nico! Sorry you had to see that.” Percy stammers, hands moving back to push his hair in a presented way. Nico laughs awkwardly, not wanting to admit the tight hot jealousy he’s growing in his chest. 

“What’s up?”

“I’m leaving camp tonight for a few days- father’s been calling me to head back to the underworld. A week at most.”

“Oh shit, man. You sure you don’t need backup?”

“No- I should be fine going alone.” Nico tries to go for a reassuring smile, though he gnaws slightly on his inner cheek, biting through the jealousy he feels. _Of course he needs Percy_ , Percy who still trusts him with unwavering loyalty even though Nico’s sold him out to his own dad, Percy who grins the smile of a proud father when Nico beats him in sparring, Percy, who talks to Nico quietly about the times Bianca’s mentioned her little brother to him. 

Percy fucking Jackson, an enigma on it’s own, pure and gentle, a mischievous smile here and there, a boy to stick tightly to the rules and place other people’s lives above his own.

**Percy Jackson. The boy Nico’s been crushing on since the first day he saw him.**

Nico turns and runs, trying to control the tears that come at bay. He closes his eyes once he’s in his cabin, safe and sound with the empty silence, and cries quietly. He doesn’t know how to deal with his second heartbreak- though this one is much more softer, much less rash, and much less uncomfortable.

He leaves camp before the first rays of sunlight can hit him, silently disappearing into shadows.

When his father tasks him with battling some type of monster that’s been terrorising Persephone’s plants, he bites his lip tightly and he nods his head.

________________________

## PART II / STARS IN THE NIGHT SKY

**November 22nd, 2009.**

He’s too shocked when he finds her in Asphodel, fingers toying with a bloodied ruby, kneeling on the black grass.

Hazel Levesque. Brown haired, golden eyed Hazel Levesque, his sister. 

Another sister for him to love, another sister for him to lose. 

“I’m Nico di Angelo,” He introduces himself quietly, holding his hand out for her to shake. “I came looking for my sister. Death has gone missing, so I…. I thought I could bring her back and no one would notice.”

“Back to life?” Hazel asked, eyes wide open with curiosity. “Is that possible?” 

“She’s gone. She chose to be reborn into a new life. I’m too late.”

He looks at the young girl again, barely thirteen years of age. A girl so full of promise, so full of love, so ready to experience the world again. He will try his best to shield her from harm’s way, from anything hitting her, to try his best to love her as much as he can. 

“You’re my sister too. You deserve another chance. Come with me.”

________________________

**June 18th, 2010.**

It’s funny how much Cupid loves to play with his love life.

He hates the God a bit too much right now. No matter when he ran, no matter where he hid, the past always caught up to him. Slowly but surely, it creeps towards him, snaking around his legs, holding him tightly when he is found. 

He watches as Hazel introduces him to Percy Jackson, a faint smile on her lips, a lost look in his eyes. 

“Percy’s lost his memory, by the way.” Hazel adds quietly. 

In a split second, all the feelings he’s had for Percy comes back, rushing in magnificent waves, crashing onto his body, leaving him bruised and blemished in love’s hold.

He grits his teeth and pretends not to know Percy, tries to play it cool when he shakes Percy’s hand, making sure not to linger his gaze on the older male for too long.

Percy stares at him with an expression of longing, curiosity, anger. He wonders how Percy would have reacted if his memories were intact.

Later, when Hazel questions him about who Percy Jackson really is, Nico is at a loss for words. Does he reply with, _a courageous hero who has saved my life multiple times_ , or _the boy I've secretly been so in love with, it hurts deeply in my chest every time I think of him?_

Nico had never been at a loss for words. He was always so sure of himself, so proud, so ambitious to follow his plans through and through. 

He was lost the moment he saw Percy again.

________________________

**June 21st, 2010.**  


There’s no turning back. 

No time stopping for a short break, no time resting under a giant rock, no time for praying to his father, praying to any type of God or Goddess, asking for his sweet death.

Nico grits his teeth and continues walking across the Phlegethon, hoping that the way the river leads is exactly where he should be going. It’s the first time in ages he’s ever been this clueless, this lost in thought, this blind. 

Yet he does it anyway. Not for himself. Nico would rather confess to Percy about his year long crush than do this.

He kills a manticore for Percy. The monster screams and curses his name as it evaporates into pure dust. Percy, the boy who saved him from that very monster itself when he was just ten. Percy Jackson, who trains him in attacking and defending, grinning widely with joy the first time ten year old Nico beats him. 

He rips the arms of a Gegeine in Hazel’s name. The giant screams and flails at the lumps of what used to be his arms. Hazel is completely different to Bianca but he still loves her as hard as he tries to. Hazel, golden eyes lost in the blank greys of the Fields, lips twitching with hope when he finds her and brings her to the living world. Hazel, the girl who cries so emotionally the first time she’s on solid ground, triggering blood red rubies, sea blue sapphires, glittering green emeralds.

He puts a cyclops out of its misery when he’s reminded of Tyson. Tyson, bright eyed and innocent, scarlet red when he collapses Nico’s table by accident, awed with curiosity when he tries to understand the mechanics of Nico’s sword, grinning with joy when he shows Nico the armoury he’s created. 

He parries his sword, the iron clashing loudly against the bronze sword of a dracaena’s, side stepping to the left and slitting her throat, while he recalls the numerous times he’s taught Drew the move. Drew Tanaka, the girl who never refuses a chance to learn, to improve, so desperate to prove to everyone that she’s more than just a pretty face, upset when she’s standing in someone’s shadow.

Drew Tanaka, practicing quietly at midnight, when the stars are out shining in their utmost glory, using the same moves that they rehearsed earlier in the day. The first time she manages to get a hit on Nico with her wooden sword, his lips tilt to the side, nodding. 

He drinks from the Phlegethon for Will. Will, who would probably be fussing over him right now if he was next to the latter, softly chanting hymns to make his broken arm less painful, stitching up claw marks he got from a certain giant scorpion, pressing a fizzy glass of ambrosia to his lips - _Doctor’s orders, di Angelo_ , Will would smirk, teasing Nico as he drinks the godly beverage. 

His arrogance only gets worse when he’s on a killstreak of (37) monsters, (0) humans, (0) himself. He sneers when he watches monsters seize up in pain, he laughs manically when his sword goes through seven empousa at once, watching with glee as they crumple before him, hissing in curses of pain.

Nico’s so exhausted, so ready to crumple onto the ground, but a rush of energy thrums through his body, his heart beating faster than ever, filled with humming adrenaline. He feels like he’s on a high, a roll, his body synchronising with his mind, becoming one at peace. He ignores the painful claw marks on his back, ignores the pleading of his bare stomach, ignores how his vision begins to dim at the edges. 

He feels so fucking fantastic right now, he could probably go through several more monsters on his own. He feels the power in his hands, in his sword, in his mind, it hums everywhere around him. He feels immortal, powerful, omnipotent. 

He is Niccolo di Angelo, the Ghost King. He is what the monsters fear at night, crawling inside their homes, not wanting to be hunted down by him. He is powerful, dangerous, an enigma. He is what future demigods fear with hatred and admire with passion, writing him down in their history books. 

He wonders if this is what a God feels like, power thrumming at the edges of his fingertips. 

He kills monster after monster, giggling deliriously, head thrown back. His attention is split everywhere, from the large birds flying over his head, the smell of Bianca’s perfume combined with a sickly sweet sulphuric taste, the way his mouth tastes like blood and vomit, the way his legs tremble vigorously after weeks and weeks of standing.

In a blink of an eye, the monsters are all crumbling into dust, wailing and shrieking as they slowly disappear from his sight. 

He feels a small tap on his back and sees Percy. Is he hallucinating? His eyes open wide, mouth curled into a sneer. Black haired, red eyed, Percy. Percy Jackson, the man he used to love, the man who had brought him so much misery, so much grief, so much strife. He didn’t know whether to passionately kiss Percy, pour himself open towards the male, or impetuously slice his sword against Percy’s throat, watching the male choke on his own blood, watching him turn pale with fear for his life.

He realises it wasn’t Percy when it speaks. 

“Hello, son of Hades. I’ve been watching you for a while.”

And then his vision crumples, lips releasing a raspy groan, sending his knees to the ground, eyes rolling to the back of his head, shutting tightly. 

________

He gasps, eyes shooting open, upper body ramming up immediately, hands reaching for his sword. 

Then he sees make-belief Percy next to him, and he knows it wasn’t just a dream. 

This Percy is different to his Percy. Make-belief Percy has the same ruffled black hair, mischievous grin, tanned skin. Even the scars on his body look exactly identical to him. But the eyes are what differentiates this Percy to his. This one has blood red eyes, eyes of fury, eyes boring straight into Nico’s soul. 

It fills Nico with rage, reminds him of the time Percy told him Bianca had died, reminds him of the time when he caught Percy and Annabeth liplocked. The rage multiplies in his mind, in his heart, in his whole body. Then he realised who was in front of him. The red eyes, the insatiable rage burning in his heart, the anger that claws desperately at his throat.

“Tell me, young demigod, what do I look like to you?” It’s voice even sounds like Percy, the New York accent copied completely- the consonants dragged, the words dragged out slightly, a drawling voice.

“Lady Eris. Goddess of Strife. You- you look like a friend of mine.” 

“A friend? There must be more to that. Tell me, Nico di Angelo. Why do you want to fight this man so badly?”

“I’d rather not.” It’s the first time Nico goes against a Goddess’ wishes. The adrenaline from earlier still burns quite brightly, lighting his mind with small suggestions. He feels like flying. No, he feels like jumping off a cliff, watching himself soar through the air before plummeting to his death. 

“Like I said, I’ve been watching you for a long time, Niccolo. Balance must be made. Your strife must be resolved, one way or another. Seek for the twins. Conquer them, and they will be your key to leaving this place.” The goddess warned him, a hungry, insatiable look on her face. 

Then Nico realised that the Goddess mirrored his emotions, his anger, his thoughts. He turned around to make a snide comment, trying to undermine the Goddess further, but Eris and fake Percy were gone. 

He was all alone in the depths of Tartarus.

________________________

**June ?th, 2010.**

There are no stars in Tartarus, Nico realises. 

He doesn’t know the time, doesn’t know how many days he’s been in this catastrophic hell, he only knows to put one small footstep in front of the other, seemingly trudging towards his death. The weight of his sword only grows heavier within each step, sagging on his belt, seemingly trying to pull him off course.

Nico doesn’t know what to do. He attacks monsters more quietly now, focusing on his health, the claw marks on his back, the tight air constricting against his lungs. He feels drained, empty, tired, weak, nauseous. As if all the energy that he had millions and millions of hours ago had suddenly disappeared. He finds himself crying at random times of the day, tears flowing quietly down his cheeks, his eyes stinging with pain and discomfort.

Nico doesn’t even realise what he’s doing until he finds himself standing meekly at the edge of a cliff he’s trying to walk across, arms outstretched and spread out, cheeks wet with tears again. He can’t see the bottom of the cliff from here, but it tells him that it’ll make his death quick. Sweet, quick, painless death. It yearns for him, calls for him.

He realizes he’s on the brink of going insane.

Nico disregards the idea and continues walking. He is a man on a mission, to find the twin giants, to slay them so he can leave at last.

But slowly as he walks towards the heart of Tartarus, the more gradually his thoughts start to blur his mind, poisoning it with thoughts of hurling himself off cliffs, jumping into rivers of poison, letting his sword go in the middle of a fight. Intrusive thoughts are a part of his daily pattern now, and he cannot let go of every idea his brain comes up with ways to send himself to peaceful numbness.

As he reaches the heart of Tartarus, he forgets.

He forgets the reason he’s come so far, he forgets what the stars look like, he forgets the sweet serenade of his mother’s voice. He’s gone so far, and yet he’s forgotten so much. He doesn’t want this anymore, he doesn’t want to think anymore.

His mind goes blank, a white canvas, a black hole, sucking all of his favourite and happiest memories, as he gives himself in wearily to Otis and Ephialtes. 

The giants easily imprison him, and swoop him up with glee. They cackle, mock him for losing this fight so easily, boast about how the Earth Mother will award them for catching such a high bounty. 

Nico closes his eyes quietly, a pomegranate seed tucked between his teeth, and dreams of his mother, pointing at stars in the distant sky.

He doesn’t wake up until he sees a brown haired girl staring curiously at him, shouts and grunts in the air, and realises he’s been saved, once again, by Percy Jackson and his loyal team of demigods.

Nico secretly wished that he was dead instead.

________________________

**July 2nd, 2010.**

Standing on the deck of the Agro II, Nico can’t see the fine line between reality and imagination anymore. 

He freezes up easily, holding his sword a little bit too tight when he hears rustling in the dark night. He doesn’t blink and he sees monster heads on the ground, crumpled weakly, eyes blank and looking up at the night sky. He kneels on the bathroom floor, knees and inner thighs bruised yellow-purple, fingers shoved inside his throat as he tries to hurl up the creepy crawly feeling shivering against his spine.

Every waking moment is spent fearing for his life, fearing that Otis and Ephialtes will come to take him hostage again, and this time, slit his pale throat instead of placing him in a jar. 

He cries quietly the first night he’s back on the ship, arms vigorously shaking and knees rocking himself, tears falling on his face and dripping onto the cold wooden floors. He’s in Percy’s cabin, Percy’s bed, Percy’s pyjamas. All too familiar for his taste.

He thinks about how Percy and Annabeth are now falling deep into Tartarus, a journey too painful for him to even think about, and he worries for their lives. The back of his mind tells him they’re not going to make it, they’ll be stuck down there forever, and that he’ll have to bury caskets and burn empty shrouds for the son of Poseidon and the daughter of Athena.

The rest of the demigods gaze at him suspiciously, eyes shifting away when he turns to them. Hazel tells him he’s wrong to think so, that they’ve just gone through too much these weeks and that they need time, but Nico can’t stand the familiar feeling of being alone again. 

It reminds him too much of Tartarus.

________________________

**July 6th, 2010.**

Nico’s mind was way too alert for its own good. Alert may have been a kind word to describe his current state, but Nico was tossing, turning, teetering on the edge of humanity. 

It was two in the morning and he was still bright awake. He couldn’t stand sleeping in Percy’s bedroom, the room a shadow of the previous inhabitant, now barely alive within the reaches of Tartarus. A cold crawling feeling shivered itself up to his spine, and he tried to shut his eyes for the fifty-eight time this hour.

He fails. All of his senses are too awake, too vigilant, too alert- ready for anything to spring up, ready for an attack. His senses are too awake, too clear for their own good. Sleeping doesn’t do him much good anymore.  
Kicking the cotton sheets off his body and slowly trudging out to the deck of the Argo II, the first thing that greets him is how ethereal the sky above him looks. Nico’s never been one for airborne travel, staying away from the domains of Zeus, small jitters hitting him whenever he was on a plane. Looking up and appreciating the silent beauty of the nebula above him.

Remote, random, radiant stars shine above him. They scatter across the ebony sky, glistening a soft yellow, some hiding amongst midnight grey clouds. Great, glorious, faint and telescopic, they bloom in front of his eyes. Twinkling, impish, small but powerful and inscrutable, they remind him of simpler times, simpler times of stargazing on Venice beaches, under large oak trees, consoling him to sleep. A mesmerising portrait, alive with raw energy, a hymn created by the Muses, singing in front of his eyes. 

He could feel each star vibrate with power, a secret promise of life shining against the darkness, a spring of warmth against the cold night. It gave him the gratitude and the warm remembrance of home, a far and distanced home, a night sky for him to lie down upon.

“You can see Cassiopeia if you connect some of the stars. They’re shining brightly tonight.” A voice beside him murmurs, and Nico turns around in shock to see his sister, bright eyed, chestnut coloured skin glinting against the pale starlight. Hazel grins sheepishly, her spatha hanging meekly by the side of her belt. She’s wearing a simple red shirt with small gems stitched into a design, and black jeans, hair tied neatly into a bun. She looks beautiful, alive and well for a person who had once been dead. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you- I just wondered what you were doing up.” Hazel reassures him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Hazel’s the only one who he can handle physical affection with- he’s not one for the sort, each briefest, dainty delicate touch reminds him all too well about Bianca. 

Bianca, who used to tuck him into bed when they first resided at the Hotel. Bianca, who played with his hair when she was bored, twisting and tying it into a misshapen mess of sorts. Bianca, who’s last thought was her brother, of how Nico would grin at the Mythomagic figure, how he would be so delighted about adding it to his collection. 

“It’s fine. I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“I’d rather not right now, Hazel.” He mumbles mellowly, the nearly toneless speech a way to hide his true emotions. He wants nothing more but to talk to her about Bianca, about how similar she is to his older sister, both females witty and talented, protective and loyal, impossibly angelic and yet dare-devilled. He doesn’t know how to voice his words, how to portray his thoughts into actual coherent sentences. 

They go silent for an awkward pause, both siblings at a loss for words. Nico sees Hazel reach into her pocket, bringing out her phone. He frowns at the wireless, hideously modern and technological device- he’s never been one for technology. Maybe it’s the boy from the 40s speaking within him, but Nico frowns at even the most simple pieces of new gadgets- he stifled a quiet yelp the other day when Leo blasted Fall Out Boy in the Mess Hall, speakers coming to live and blaring the lyrics of an outrageously upbeat song. 

“Wanna dance instead? It’ll be fun, even if you’re stiff and old and too mature to dance.” Hazel sticks her tongue out playfully, teasing the latter to a challenge. 

Nico hadn’t danced in a while- his mother had forced him to take ballroom dancing classes as a child, scolding him when he refused to partake any longer. _‘It was boring, Mama,’ He had said then, huffing and stomping his feet to indicate his point_. Now, Nico would give the world anything just to dance again with his mother.

“You’re saying I can finally put all those 1940s ballroom lessons to use? Sweet.” 

Hazel pulls him to the center of the boat, just below the mast. The black sky that shone above them shined soft tranquility, casting a soothing calmness that allowed Nico to rest, relax his aching muscles, let his worries go for just the slip of a second, allow his heart to go to a resting rhythm. A rhythm that allowed his soul to rest, a special kind of warmth, holding the stars and all the love that Nico had felt. An enveloping hug that kept him steady, kept him from teetering on the edge of darkness. He felt his soul clearly in the pitch black darkness, only illuminated by soft lamp lights and the everlasting starlight. 

With eyes closed, he was at home at last, in a place where his dreams flowed freely. So, as the moon shines above the passing clouds of ink, as the stars twinkle above him, he watches as Hazel presses play on a random song, the melody beauteous and pure, skillful and evocative.

_Amethyst and flowers on the table, is it real or a fable?_

_Well I suppose a friend is a friend_

_And we all know how this will end_

Nico twirls Hazel playfully, their dance discordant yet harmonious, full of Hazel’s soft giggles and laughter, and his small smirks, lips tilting on an edge as he recalls knowledge of how he used to dance as a child. He steps on Hazel a few times, causing the younger girl to snicker freely, held back by no social standards, no images in the past, no demons haunting them, no skeletons in the closet.

Verbally he was guarded, physically he would shrink and fade into the background no matter where he was. Nico was a scared boy, scared of all of what the future would bring him, scared of his identity, scared of his loved ones collapsing on the brink of death with him. But in rare fleeting moments, it seemed as if all his worries were gone.

_Chimney swift that finds me be my keeper, silhouette of the cedar_

_What is that song you sing for the dead_

_I see the signal searchlight strike me, in the window of my room_

Two siblings, two children of one of the most deadly dangerous daunting Gods, two children stuck in their pasts, heavily impacted by all they had come through. Two souls, happily dancing to one song, intertwined in euphoria.

________________________

**July 9th, 2010.**

He was in the ghost of his old memories. 

Split, Croatia. A weekend trip, a small boy tugging on his mother’s hand, begging the woman for more ice cream until his stomach felt too full to eat anymore. A weekend spent annoying Bianca to shreds, the eight year old scowling when he screeched with joy and pretended to jab her as a pirate. 

Too many good memories, gone to dust, buried deep within the heart of Venice. 

They snuck into a vast chamber, Nico’s sword held tightly in case of malevolent spirits. Jason seemed scared behind him, gladius drawn, footsteps soft and echoing. The chamber seemed so ancient, so out of place, with its limestone walls fused tightly together, covered by walls of moss. He had been down here once, as a child, when the cave looked less ancient, less destructive, shone less of wars, grief, gory, destruction.

“Hello!” A voice shouts, sing-songily, just behind him and Jason. 

Nico recognises that voice. It formed at the back of his head, musing softly, humming at him when he last watched Percy jump into the River Styx. Too familiar, too calculating, too savage and menacing. He turns around slowly to see the angel from earlier, a deep tan, skin smoothed to perfection, curly black hair that tucked just behind his ears. The angel shone a devious smile, grinning at Nico, brown eyes peering into his heart. 

He recognised that feeling- being watched, his every move replayed and looked over. He felt stalked. 

At least Jason had clumsily sliced off Diocletian’s head. That made the tension ease. The older boy yelped and looked absolutely frightened. Seeing Jason Grace being frightened, alarmed and petrified, it gave him a small amount of solace- at least he was not the only one anxious. 

“The West Wind has been called many things- warm, gentle, life-giving and devilishly handsome. But I have never been called startling. I leave that crass behaviour to my gusty brethren in the north.” The man chuckled, spinning the bronze quoit in his hand.

The West Wind. Zephyros. Nico had been told of his story, countless times. A threatening tale, a tale of pure jealousy, hatred, despite. Zephyros had killed his lover, then was forced to hide with his master, scurrying away from the rage of the God that would avenge his lover’s death. A tale of hatred, envy, everything that applied so ironically to his situation.

“Your master?” Jason had uttered, raising a brow curiously at Zephyros. Jason seemed confused, lost, not capable of understanding the tale that Zephyros had come from. Nico knew. He knew too much, knew that he was going to face a fear worse than Tartarus, a fear that would come true so suddenly.

“He means Eros. Cupid, in Latin.” Nico wished that his worst fear wouldn’t come true, wouldn’t actually become real, that he wouldn’t have to face the God of Love, admit his feelings, deep dark twisted fantasies, brutal mistrust and love for the boy he idolised.

“Very good, Nico di Angelo. If you want the sceptre, you must face the God of Love.” Zephyros mused, turning Nico’s face into a pale ashen white. His world tilted dangerously on an edge, stuck between the land of the living and the bottomless pit of the dead. He knew his time was up, he was a dead man walking the last steps of his life, the last footsteps echoing on his pathway. It was time for him to face the truth.

Nico desperately didn’t want that. Gazing nervously at the sunlight that shone between the windows, he hopelessly wished he could become Hyancinthus- shockingly scarlet scorched blood pooling on the pavements, reincarnated into a flower by his lover, whispers ill-fated words of love and death in his ear, held by his lover, on his last breath.

‘That’s okay,’ Nico said quickly, not wanting Jason to pick up on his nervousness. ‘Just take us to Cupid.’

________

They were failing spectacularly. 

“We just want the sceptre!” Nico shouted, his mind surrounded by small flurries of panic. The same crawling feeling on his spine had returned, edging closer to his throat. He wanted to hurl his guts, scream and push all of his anger away. 

“We’re trying to stop Gaia. Are you on the gods’ side or not?”

“Love is on every side,” Cupid spoke quietly, his voice bouncing off the edges of the marble pillars. “and no one’s side. Don’t ask what Love can do for you, Nico di Angelo.”

Jason had miraculously slashed the God’s arm- a trail of golden ichor shone on the paving stones, causing the God’s rage to tremble further. Shooting arrow by arrow, Jason sliced everything that came their way. The blonde boy was not nervous, not worried- he had no idea what was coming to Nico’s mind, what fueled Nico’s worries.

_Black ruffled hair. Mischievously loyal green eyes. Broken promises. Words of faith. Nico had trusted him so much, and yet he had lost all he ever had to the person he trusted._

_“I’ll do my best. I promise that.” Percy had uttered, words spilling past his lips. A promise, an oath sworn to protect his sister. Nico had looked at the taller boy, his favourite game come to life, a real life action hero, a legendary superman, coming to rescue him and his sister._

_A raw scream coming out, anguished and in pain. He knelt on the dirt floor, tears slowly flowing on his cheeks, hitting the soft ground._  
_Spirits creeping, crawling out of trees, floating all around him. GILA CLAW, ARIZONA._

_“Her spirit resides in the Underworld.”_

“Stop it!” He had commanded, his sword gripped tightly by his side, eyes welling up with soft tears. He knew what was going to happen, what was slowly unfolding, what he was going to have to admit.

“Oh, poor little Nico di Angelo.” The god mused, voice hinting at slight disappointment. “Do you know what you want, much less what I want? My beloved Psyche risked everything in the name of Love. It was the only way to atone for her lack of faith. And yet, what have you risked in my name?” 

“I’ve been to Tartarus and back. You most certainly do not scare me.”

“I scare you very, very much. Be honest, zombie boy. Face me.” 

_Zombie boy._ Percy had called him that jeering nickname a few times, when they were sparring, blades clashing strongly against each other. 

“Will you hide among the dead, as you always do? Will you continue to ignore your true feelings, your thoughts, the way you are?” Cupid taunted him, his voice turning into a harsh sneer. “Tell him, Nico di Angelo. Tell him you are a coward, afraid of yourself and your feelings. Tell him **the real reason you ran from Camp Half-Blood** , and why you are always alone.”

Nico let loose all the rage, twisted taunting terrifying jealousy he had in his mind, waves of darkness seeping off his body. Skeletons surging forward on one command, grappling and pounding on an invisible figure. He felt raw, torn apart, seams showing, revealing who he really was.

Besides him, Jason looked transfixed, eyes glassy, lips parted slightly open. 

“Interesting! Do you have the strength, after all?” Cupid continued to jeer, a low, booming laugh echoing across the hollow sky. Nico felt so lost, so lost within the crowd of hatred, anguish, envy he had felt. 

“Leave him alone, Cupid. This isn’t ….” Jason had tried to utter next to him, but Nico knew it was too late. When he was younger, he watched as two men had been torn apart from each other, one struggling in the arms of a burly, strong Gestapo, the other on the ground, wailing and pounding his fists on the ground, screaming and crying for his lover. He had asked his mother about the scene, and his mother shook her head, ruffled his hair, and quietly told him not to speak of the incident again.

All the fight, the fury, the anguish and despair had come out of Nico at once. He slumped to his knees, body falling with a soft thump, eyes welling up with soft tears that he hadn’t experienced since he saw Percy press his lips on Annabeth. He was fighting a lost battle, he had to retreat, to leave, to close his eyes and wish himself to be dead.

“I had a crush on Percy.” Nico spat, the words venom to his ears, singing on a roast pit of fire, embers burning to pieces. “That’s the truth. That’s the big secret. Happy now?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say Love always makes you happy.” Cupid’s voice sounded smaller, much more human. “Sometimes it makes you incredibly sad. But at least you’ve faced it now. That’s the only way to conquer me.”

The God had disappeared into the wind, leaving nothing but the pieces of a broken heart Nico would try to fix again. 

On the ground, an ivory staff laid, three feet long, a dark globe of polished marble on top, decorated with Roman eagles. The sceptre of Diocletian.

He glanced at Jason, eyes brimming with tears. He was so worried, so terrified of what would happen to him next. Would he get arrested? Burnt to death? Jailed for eternity? Would the demigods on the Argo II sneer at him, jeer at his feelings, mock how worthless and timid little Nico di Angelo really was?

“I don’t feel that way any more,” Nico muttered, his voice slowly diminishing to a falter. “I gave up on Percy. I was young and impressionable, and I – I don’t …” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, gulping back the hot and heavy tears that were about to flow out.

“Nico. I’ve seen a lot of brave things. But what you just did? That was maybe the bravest, the most heroic of things.” Jason reassured him, a hand placed on the small of his back, rubbing small circles. It reminded him of Bianca. 

He felt dangerously raw, dangerously torn apart.

“We should get back to the ship.”

________________________

**July 18th, 2010.**

Nico really would rather confess his crush to Percy than this. 

It’s quiet, near midnight. The see-through panel under his back provides him the silence he needs, the sweet smell of warm, earthy, mahogany hay filling the room, giving him the space for him to process all the events that had happened earlier this week. 

He was expected to carry a giant statue across the world in less than five hours. 

The events of last month still reel in his mind. Tartarus felt like an eternity, a maze decorated and garnished with horrifying features, and everywhere he went, he seemed to remember a painful part of it. He had almost given in to the insanity, the sweet release of death that he could easily walk into. Sleep comes to him in small shifts, only when he’s on the brink of exhaustion, laying awake and confronting himself to any difficulty that the Argo II had. Sneering spirits? Gone with a wave of a hand. Malevolent monsters? He jabs them without any thought. Monsters provide him no challenge now, the rush of adrenaline that came with killing dimmed to a weary light- they seemed more of an obstacle, something that he had to get through rather than something he fantasised about as a child. 

“Hey.” 

Nico turns around at the sudden noise, a hand gripping the sword next to him, an excuse ready to be burst out at Coach Hedge, who had probably caught him awake after bed check. A blonde boy greets him, eyes nervously flickering between the glass bottomed boat and his sword. Jason Grace looks weary instead of energetic, the normally vigorous and lively demigod clad in simple plaid sweatpants and a white shirt, his hair stuck out in different directions, slouching defensively. He would have passed for a tired high school student, if it wasn’t for the glimmering gold sword by his side.

“Hazel told me I would find you here.” Jason mutters, awkwardly shuffling towards the center of the boat, sitting cross-legged next to him. Words awkwardly press against his throat, nervous anger bubbling in his stomach. What does Jason want? To wish him good? To talk to him about what he said? To ridicule and sneer at his sexuality, at his attraction, at how he was still clinging onto the faint hopes of a certain black haired green eyed boy falling in love with him again?

It’s pretty awkward, the tension quite thick in the air. Two boys sitting across each other, a topic about to be spilt on their tongues. Nico feels fiddly, uncomfortable with the energy in the room. The tension feels thickening, like fog dampening and making the air unbreathable. 

“I was thinking-” 

“The other day-” 

Nico looked at Jason incredulously. Both boys blinked, cheeks flushing red, holding back the words they were about to say. A red flush comes up on Jason’s cheeks, and the latter smiles awkwardly, a hand scratching the back of his neck. At least it isn’t just him that feels mortifyingly unpleasant at the current situation.

“I’m sorry, Nico. For springing that on you last week. I shouldn’t have said that.” The boy begins, voice soft but spoken surely. Nico is confused, shocked at an extent, by how Jason is speaking these words to him, apologising for something that was simply normal, simply humane to him. He was used to all the ridicule, the threats, the fear that came with him. He was used to people scurrying around him, whimpering in fear, flinching when he brought his sword out, or even said a word in the slightest.

He definitely was not used to a pleasant conversation with blonde all American boy Jason Grace. He expected to be ridiculed, to be shamed for his existence, to be shunned away from everything once more.

“Cupid outing you- that was fucking horrifying, to say the least. I’ll be completely honest with you, Nico. I don’t know you that well. I know _things_ , things that people have said about you, rumors and childish gossip, but I’ve never believed in it. Rumors don’t define you, they don’t define anyone in the slightest. They’re stupid pieces of information convicted from people who have never met the real part of a person.” Jason’s rambling, he could tell. The boy gets a little bit antsy, his words coming out a little bit shaky, posture definitely getting more tense. 

Nico knows he’s not causing the posture, the stress from trying to talk to him is. However, a certain anxious Jason Grace does bring a small smirk to his lips.

“What are the rumors about me, per se?” Nico ventures- he’s curious as to what people really think about him sometimes. It’s a certain topic that keeps him awake at night, a certain topic that makes him slightly squeamish. He’s never given much fucks towards personal image, reputation, but he’s got certain things that he likes to keep in private. Like how he secretly loves a good piano concert. Or how he’s clumsy when he’s tired and freshly woken up, or how he cannot pronounce certain English words, tripping over certain syllables and consonants. 

“Well, Piper and Leo think you’re really fucking emo. Some of the new kids at Camp idolise your whole son of Hades image. Also, most of the Aphrodite kids think you’re kinda hot.” 

“What the fuck.”

“Yeah man, it’s weird.” Jason laughs- it’s a breezy, carefree noise, the noise tinkering in the air. The atmosphere seems less tense now, less thick. The nervous energy that Nico and Jason both had seems to have disappeared, gone within a few jokes.

“I support you, Nico. It’s normal. Times are different now. Hell, gay marriage got legalised last month in all states. People are happy. There’s gay prides and stuff. Besides, we’re Greeks and Romans. We’re literally products of weird mythologic shit.” Jason eases into the conversation, adding in small jokes left and right about the absurdity of the world they live in, how they were products of literal Gods, living breathing magical deities. Nico feels an unconscious amount of pressure relieved off him, the panic and worry of his sexuality untangling from a deep place in his heart. 

“I-I, I honestly don’t know how it happened? I never had any feelings for anyone as a child. Then there was Percy, and he looked like a God, a dream come true. I was so young, so innocent, I didn’t even know what was going on.” Nico whispers quietly. He feels exposed, raw, but he owes Jason the explanation. He wants to try, to at least give something into developing a friendship with the blonde, to actually have a friend for once, someone who he could confide in with secrets.

“I get that. I don’t understand anything between Piper and I. Hera made her think that we’re dating, placed all these fake memories in her head, and I don’t have any feelings towards her. It’s fucking horrible, I hate how everything looks at me and expects me what to do sometimes.”

“You, Jason Grace, ex-Praetor, all American boy, hate people worshipping the ground you walk on?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy Hera. I agree, though.” 

“You know how,” Jason starts- he’s beginning to ramble again, but this time it’s less tense, less controlled, more human. “You know how people expect us to do things, astronomically impossible things, and you’re just standing there, wondering how exactly you’re supposed to even get it done? Everyone’s watching us, worshipping the ground we walk on, calling us ‘The Godly Seven’. I don’t even feel godly myself.” 

“A year from now and you’re going to be called some saviour of the Gods. It happened to Percy.” Nico hums in agreement, focusing his gaze back onto Jason. Jason looks more human now, more or less of a lost boy, lost in a society full of false hopes, manipulative Gods, selfish humans and their greedy nature. 

“I don’t even want this, I just want a normal life. I would be studying right now, playing lacrosse after school, or some shit. Ask a girl out the American way for Homecoming. My biggest worry would be passing my PSATs.”

“I would hate you if you were like that in your normal life.”

“You already hate me.” Jason chuckles, a hand brushing through his hair again. “What about you? If life was normal - no godly shit, none of that. Where would you be?”

Nico pauses for a second, his head swarming with thoughts. _A normal life_ , he thinks. _A normal life, with no Gods in his life, no destruction, no monsters, no evil deities taking his mother, his sister, his friends away. No loss. No destruction. Just hope, and a normal amount of anxiety for normal situations._ But then, would he ever realise that there were people by his side? He would have never travelled to this timeline. He would never have met so many people who instilled courage and hope in him. He would never get to experience what it felt like to be a free, liberated homosexual man, living his life.

He gulps back a small sob that had begun to form in the corner of his eyes.

“I think,” He phrases his sentence carefully, picking out words to use before they meet his lips. “I think I would be happy. Happy, but not motivated. Lost in life without an actual cause. Just free, wandering around the world. My mom and sister would be alive.” 

“My mom would be alive too, I think.” Jason replies somberly, the two boys mutually bonding over inside secrets, secrets that tore at their heartstrings, pulling ruthlessly until they gave up.

“Hey, but I would still hate the shit out of you.” Nico makes a weary attempt for a joke, and it’s met with shit-eating snickers that come from the blonde boy.

“I would bully you, di Angelo. You’re literally the poster child for some emo-punk band. Your mullet and curly hair, man. You would have not survived in high school, especially during Gym lessons.”

“Fuck you, Grace.”

The two boys laugh loudly, the noise echoing off the walls and the glass floor. It’s been ages since Nico’s had a reassuringly good laugh, the noise making him feel at ease. His laugh is airy and light, and it makes him feel warm inside, a small spurt of hope tingling in his ears, vibrating through his chest, and it makes him feel hope, only for a slight, minor second.

They make small conversation, about incredibly immature and naive things they did as a child, joking about how Leo’s palms start flaming up when he’s excited, and the sky slowly begins to brighten below. Nico raises an eyebrow at the soft light emitting. 

“We should go to sleep. You have a statue to carry across the world, and I have giants to defeat.” Jason stands up, stretching slightly. Nico notices how tired Jason actually looks, how quiet and timid his actual personality is. Jason Grace is just an innocent boy amongst the crowd, stumbling over his steps and slowly learning how to live. 

Jason stretches his hand out to him, a small sign of a metaphorical olive branch, a sign of their arguments gone, slowly disappearing, and the start of a new friendship.

Nico takes it without any hesitation.

“Goodnight, Grace.”

“Sleep tight, di Angelo.”

Tonight is the first night Nico di Angelo ever falls asleep in peaceful slumber.

________________________

**August 1st, 2010**

A full year of not seeing William Andrew Solace, and yet the blonde boy looked as idiotic as ever.

The male was dressed in black jeans and T-shirts, black grease paint smudged carelessly on his cheeks and forehead, his blonde hair unkempt and tousled by the wind as usual. But something had changed about the boy. A year had passed since he had last seen Will, last spoken to him, and Will had grown. He seemed taller, carrying himself with confidence, posture menacingly glaring at him, as if it was about to order him to three days of bed rest in the Infirmary. He carried himself with an aura of dominance, as if he was a leader. His blue eyes seemed to glint more, contrasting against the pale blue sky. His skin seemed more tanned, acres and acres of golden skin stretching across taut muscles, smooth pectoral muscles that lined his biceps, taut and lean like a surfer’s, tense and powerful like an archer’s. 

Then Nico paused his train of thoughts and focused on the present.

Watching Will clumsily try to explain what him and a few other campers were doing in the grass, he snickered. Will had surely changed, physically, but the awkward, stubborn side of his personality had not. It remained rigid and agonising as usual, the presence annoying Nico to bits.

“You dressed in black,” Nico started, a smirk beginning to blossom on his lips while he saw Will’s expression falter from confident to an embarrassing blushing mess. “with the fucking sun coming up. You painted your face but didn’t cover that mop of blonde hair. Sunshine much, Mister Solace?”

Will protested, an annoyed scowl coming to his lips. “Lou Ellen wrapped some Mist around us.”

The girl next to Will waved timidly at him, explaining their current situation. Coach Hedge had thankfully, _thank Gods_ , arrived at camp safe and sound, and was able to be next to his wife when his child was born. The mental image of Coach holding an adorable, babbly blue-eyed boy, swinging the infant around and promising to teach him every martial art in the books brought a large grin to his face- at least one of his friends had made it out safe. 

Will was complaining about how he had to deliver the baby, which Nico found weirdly amusing. When Will complained, he moved his hands around, gesturing wildly just to prove a point, and he was dead sure that one of Will’s hands had hit Cecil. 

Then, the blonde haired boy did something unexpected. He grabbed his hand, which froze Nico’s whole body to a complete stop. It felt like slamming on breaks too quickly, the amount of brute force ready to send him toppling over the edge. Will’s hand felt calloused, nimble fingers tracing against his wrist, the texture slightly rough, but it felt strangely like home. Up close, Will smelled like sweet lemons and antiseptic, and he radiated a slight warmth, like the feeling of the sun shining on a snowy day.

Nico felt a deep blush tint across his ears, and he quickly withdrew his hand. He tried to focus his priorities, but his mind was quite busy debating over the pros and cons of Will Solace actually holding his hand. 

“Whatever.” He snapped, shaking his hand slightly- he really had to get these thoughts out of his head. The image of Will smiling at him, sitting silently on the porch of his cabin, sipping a cold glass of lemonade- that was enough for his mind already. “We don’t have time for chit chat. The Romans are attacking at dawn and I really have to sha-”

“Don’t even finish that fucking sentence. It’s a no.” 

“Excuse me?” Nico seethed, shooting Will a glare. In most cases, people would flinch and bow their head, withdrawing quietly back into silence. Will kept his persistence, his stubbornness peaking up even more when Nico looked like he would kill him. 

“Coach Hedge told me all about your shadow-travel. Don’t even talk to me about trying it again. You’re in no shape to try that shit.” 

“ _I just did_ , Solace. I’m clearly fine.”

“Don’t even try that bullshit. I could feel the darkness in your hand as soon as I touched it. You’re going to die as soon as you attempt it. No shadow-travel. _Doctor’s orders_.” 

“The camp is going to be destroyed-”

“And we **will** stop the Romans.” Will snapped back, shaking his head profusely. He looked like an adult trying to console a child with a temper tantrum- commanding but his posture was at ease, as if he wasn’t trying to show that he was slightly livid. “But we’re doing it our own way. Lou Ellen _will_ control the mist. We will sneak around, do as much damage as we can. But _no fucking way_ , are we shadow-travelling.” 

Nico sighed in exasperation. Apparently Will Solace had changed since he had last seen him, and had become even more aggravating and stubborn than usual. Nico wasn’t in camp these few months- he was either in Tartarus or Camp Jupiter. What had happened to Will, that caused the blonde fifteen year old to get so angry and defensive?

He remembered when he first learnt about his lineage. He had met Apollo in the cold and snowy December, looking silently at the God while he joked around with Percy and Thalia. He remembered Apollo, smiling and tanned and completely cool in his shades.

Thalia had said, _He’s hot._  
_He’s the sun god,_ Percy replied.  
_That’s not what I meant._

Why was Nico thinking about that now? The random memory irritated him, made him feel as if something was crawling up his bones again slowly, the feeling clawing closer and closer to his throat.

“Whatever. But we have to hurry. And you’re following my lead.” He directed Will and the other campers, pointing across to a slight direction where the first onanger was.

“Fine. Just don’t ask me to deliver any more satyr babies, and it’ll be like old times.”

________

Will Solace was the most stubborn, aggravating and stupid person that Nico had ever met. 

“Thanks for the assist. Six at one ain’t bad.” Will punched his shoulder, chortling. Nico had just ran into battle to knock out five demigods, smacking heads with the flat of his blade, bashing helmets into each other. Within ten quick seconds, all the Romans were laying on the ground, groaning and wincing at the bruises that were quickly forming.

“Not bad?” Nico glared at him, to only notice that Will was teasing in a joking manner. He huffed and crossed his arms, snarking a quick response to the older boy. “Next time Solace, I’m definitely letting them kill you. You’d be less annoying if you were dead.”

“Jokes on you, di Angelo. I’m even more annoying when I’m dead. And they’d never catch me.” 

Nico jumps back in shock when the guards spotted them, raising his sword at the ready. He never wanted to kill more demigods, only wanted to prominently injure or stun them in the slightest. What happened with Bryce Lawerence was something that he didn’t know how to cope with, and he would probably have to ponder and trace his last steps later. He shaked the thought out of his head, focusing on the guards running towards them.

Lou Ellen cursed in Ancient Greek, saying something that Nico refused to translate- the curse was creepy enough even for him. “They’re expecting an attack now. Do we run?”

“No, let’s give them what they expect.” Nico bit his cheek and spread his hands, causing the ground to shake and erupt. Five skeletons clawed their way out of the earth, dressed in ancient military uniforms, guns at the ready. Cecil and Lou Ellen charged in to stun the Romans, swords and arrows nocked at the ready. Nico tried to follow their footsteps, but stumbled and almost fell on his face if Will wasn’t tightly grabbing onto his shirt. 

“You’re an idiot.” Will muttered, placing an arm around him. “I told you, no more Underworld shit. You wanna underestimate me now, di Angelo?”

“I’m fine.” Nico grinded his teeth. His sight was rapidly dimming, black spots appearing suddenly- he felt slightly faint, but he knew he would be fine sooner or later. He leaned on Will comfortably, head pressed against the curve of Will’s shoulder, taking a mental break for a few seconds. He hated physical contact. He didn’t want to rely on Will, but the healer looked a lot stronger than before. 

“Shut up, Death Boy. Take this.” Will took a pack of gum out of his jean pocket, shoving a stick of gum into Nico’s mouth. 

“Tastes like shit.” 

“Stop complaining, pissbaby.” 

“Hey.” Cecil limped over, a wild grin on his face. “You guys missed the fight.” 

Lou Ellen followed, a massive smile on her face. Behind them, the Roman guards were tangled in a weird assortment of swords, ropes and bones. “Your skeletons are fantastic, Nico. Thanks.”

“He won’t be doing that again.” Will assured, a tight hand supporting Nico’s elbow.

Nico realised he was still leaning against Will- which suddenly made him very uncomfortable. He pushed himself off and stood on two feet- at least the gum Will gave him had helped, making him slightly more awake and focused. “I’ll do what I need to do.”

“Fine, Death Boy. If you have a suicidal thought pattern, by all means-”

“Stop _fucking_ calling me _Death Boy!_ ” 

Nico wasn’t sure whether to kick himself or Will Solace when they were quickly surrounded by the Romans once again.  
As the dog-headed men crashed forward, Will let out a piercing taxicab whistle, the noise ringing through his ears and causing him to wince in annoyance. It also shocked him that Will had this power- he had heard rumors about Will’s ultrasonic whistle, but he had never listened to it in person. It did suit him- he wished he had a power that could shut everyone up in one go.

“It’s even worse for the dogs.” Will explained to a confused Cecil, shrugging slightly. “One of my few musical talents. I do a really awful ultrasonic whistle, and I can rap kinda well.” 

Nico didn’t complain, wading through the dog-men and jabbing them viciously, watching them collapse into shadows.

“My – my elite guard!” Octavian desperately looked around for sympathy. “Did you see what he did to my elite guard?”

“Some dogs need to be put down.” Nico snarled, stepping forward and raising his authority to the rest of the Romans. “Like you.”

For one beautiful moment, the whole First Cohort wavered, faltering at his words. Cecil and Lou Ellen, next to him, raised their eyebrows in shock. Will smirked and nodded slightly, as if in approval with his actions.

“You will be destroyed!” Octavian shrieked. “You _bloody up-to-no-good Graeci_ , sneaking around, sabotaging our weapons, attacking our men–”

“You mean the weapons you were about to fire at us?” Cecil asked. 

“And the men who were about to burn our camp to ashes?” added Lou Ellen.

“Just like a Greek!” Octavian yelled. “Trying to twist things around!” He pointed to the nearest legionnaires, ordering them to their commands. “You, you, you and you. Check all the onagers. Make sure they’re operational. I want them fired simultaneously as soon as possible. Now!” 

The four Romans shamelessly ran into the distance. Nico got worried, but tried to keep his expression neutral. He silently begged that they didn’t check anything that would cause his camp to explode.

Octavian marched up to Nico, surprisingly unafraid. He stopped so close to Nico that Nico had the underwhelming urge to back away, but his determination stood his ground. Nico could see the bloodshot veins in his pale watery eyes, the stench of body sweat and odour leaking away from his skin, and the way his hair imitated poorly cooked spaghetti, limp and pale blonde. He looked like a starved child- the way his face was gaunt, pale and sculpted poorly. 

Nico knew Octavian was a legacy of Apollo, but the resemblance had nothing to do with the God himself. Nico couldn’t help thinking that Octavian looked like a watered down, unhealthy version of the blonde healer next to him. Will looked so healthy, jubilant, energetic and passionate, being around him lifted his spirits slightly, and made him more energetic for the war. Standing so close to Octavian made Nico grimace, a weird quenching feeling in his gut, as if just looking at him made him want to vomit.

Whatever made a child of Apollo special, Octavian didn’t have it. 

“Tell me, son of Pluto,” The augur hissed, clenching his fists too tightly. “Why are you helping the Greeks? What have they ever done for you?”

“First of all, I’m a son of Hades.” Nico retorted sharply, mimicking Octavian’s position and demeanour. If it was anything that he had learnt from Annabeth, it was to focus on his opponent’s weaknesses, copy their attitude better, and scare them into submission, into defeat. “Second, I’m helping the Greek and the Romans.” 

“You must take me for a fool. What have they offered you – a place in their camp? They won’t honour their agreement. We can do better.”

“I don’t want a place in their camp.” Nico snarled, withholding the urge to seriously punch Octavian in the face. “Or in yours, for fuck’s sake. When this war is over, I’m leaving for good.”

Next to him, Will made a noise that sounded like he was being punched. “Why would you do that?”

The anger in Nico only burned brighter, the rage of being misunderstood for centuries, for years, for an eternity of time started to pour out of his mouth. “Because, I don’t belong here. That’s obvious. No one wants me. I’m a child of –”

“Oh, please.” Will sounded unusually angry, tilting his head to look at him properly. “Nobody at Camp Half-Blood ever pushed you away. You have friends – you have me as a friend! You pushed yourself away. Maybe if you’d get your head out of that brooding cloud of yours for once –”

“Enough!” Octavian snapped. “Di Angelo, I can beat any offer the Greeks could make. I always thought you would make a powerful ally- I see the ruthlessness in you, and it is worthy to me. I can assure you a place in New Rome. All you have to do is step aside and allow the Romans to win. The god Apollo has shown me the future –”

“What the fuck?” Will brutally shoved Nico out of the way and spat in Octavian’s face. The healer looked livid, to say the least. To normal eyes, Will would have looked as calm as a blue sky, but Nico knew that the boy was charged with anger. “I am the son of Apollo, you anaemic bitch. My father hasn’t shown anyone the future, because the power of prophecy isn’t working. But this?” He waved loosely at the assembled legion, the hordes of monstrous armies spread across the hillside. 

“This is definitely something that Apollo wouldn’t want.” 

Will looked madly infuriated, and now Nico knew why the older boy was so stubborn. Camp had a crisis- an epidemic, to say the least. Rachel had probably lost her powers. The whole Apollo cabin was probably mocked and sneered at for losing the one thing that centered their whole lives: the power of prophecy. 

The way Will was staring into Octavian’s eyes, insisting on a challenge on who was the better legacy of Apollo, it sparked a small fire in Nico’s heart. Nico tried to quench that fire as soon as possible, focusing on better tasks. Yet he knew, he had to venture and make new friends, new acquaintances. It would have been what Bianca wanted.

He smirked when Octavian stuttered from Will’s gaze and tore away first.

________

Watching Octavian die was somewhat satisfying, Nico had thought. Until he saw the horrified expression on Will’s face. 

“Octavian, don’t.” Will was pleading, trying to shout any amount of intelligence into Octavian’s foolish ways. “There’s no way you can-”

Everything flashed by in his eyes as if he was in Octavian’s position. Pictures, fleeting memories of a younger version of him giggling and running across the streets in Venice, the first time he had cried when he fell into the canal, shaking the water off him and listening to his mother quietly scold him for being so foolish. The first time he had witnessed the Gestapo in the school courtyard, wrestling away an Italian teacher who had been too mouthy about politics. The first time his mother openly wept in front of him, crying about some man that he would soon realise was his father. The first time he learnt about his lineage. The first time he met Percy. The time when he was groomed and manipulated by Minos. The firsts he ever had, and the ones he had coming.

He could envision everything. He saw himself, older, hair more curlier, longer, tied behind in a tight bun, brown eyes gleaming with adoration, a faceless man kissing the back of his neck. He saw himself, glaring playfully at a younger girl that resembled Percy, as the girl giggled and spun him around. He saw himself- five, ten years into the future, teasing a faceless male as they laughed and kissed him cheekily on the nose. He saw his grave, lowered slowly into the dullen earth, whispers and sobs passed around by an unknown group of people. 

He saw everything and so much more. Then he remembered his father’s words in the Chapel of Bones, cold and calculated, but so excruciatingly true. 

_Some deaths cannot be prevented. When the time comes, you may need to act._

Nico knew this one should not be prevented at all costs.

“Will,” he whispered, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder to steady the blonde male. “we can’t stop him.”

The boy looked at him in disbelief, eyes wide and shocked. Then he nodded quietly, stepping back from the onager. He didn’t know what Will was feeling, how this could possibly affect everyone’s future, their future, his future, but he chose to stay silent, staring at Octavian with a bitter and remorse awe as Octavian sneered with pride, and cut the release wire, screaming loudly once he realised what he had done.

_Some deaths should not be prevented, figlio._

Nico might have said good riddance. He might have waved sarcastically at Octavian’s disappearing figure.

But Will and him watched, hearts sinking into the cold aspen earth, as the sky exploded loudly, cracking amongst the earth, a bright orange explosion gleaming across the once blue sky.

Some deaths cannot be prevented.

________________________

**August 3rd, 2010.**

The campfire seemed to burn brighter tonight, and Nico silently thanked Hestia for the warmth it was giving him. 

Hundreds of demigods were seated in the pavilion, laughing and singing softly to modern songs and remade Greco-Roman versions of normal campfire songs. Percy had started screaming All Star at the top of his lungs, cheering on numerous campers to join him and chant in pure glee. Farhan Boone, a son of Venus, serenaded one of the Nike boys with a sweet rendition of Midnight Memories. Will surprisingly, had got the whole crowd cheering for him when he and a few other Apollo kids sang Kanye West’s Monster (Nico had to get the title of the song from a laughing Lou Ellen). The blonde blushed, grinned mischievously, and was immediately showered with fist bumps and wolf whistles when he sat down.

However, when they were singing ‘Down by the Aegean’, everyone stared at the stars, as if expecting a sudden shout, a bright cheer, and for a bronze dragon to swoop Leo come back, fists raised in the air, launching into some corny joke when he landed. Nico secretly wished that the impish boy would arrive back at Camp too. He didn’t.

A few songs passed, and Nico watched from the shadows, as Reyna and Frank were called up to the front, a thunderous amount of applause coming from the audience. He smiled softly, watching as Reyna announced their departure back to Camp Jupiter the next day, sending words of hospitality and kindness to the Greeks.

“Tomorrow,” Reyna said, a soft smile on her lips. “we Romans must return home. We appreciate your hospitality, especially since we almost killed you –”

“Correction- you almost got killed,” Annabeth stood up and retorted, laughing as Reyna’s face became puzzled for a slim second.

“Whatever, Chase.”

The crowd roared with laughter, sniggering and pushing each other around. Nico laughed quietly, bringing a hand to cover his smile. He had become fond of Reyna, had sought her as a friend, an ally, a person to confide in. He was happy that Reyna trusted him now, and that he could seek her in times of need. 

“There’s one more thing I want to say, before I conclude,” Reyna began, walking up to Nico. Nico’s eyes widened and his face turned slightly red as Reyna pulled him gently into the firelight, the warm fire beginning to encase his body more, filling him with a slight warmth. The crowd went silent, tense, waiting for a sudden battle to occur again. 

“I don’t think any of this would have been possible if it wasn’t for Nico here. He’s done so much for us, risking his life several times, just to make sure that this statue was safely transported to Camp Half Blood. Never have I ever trusted a comrade, an ally, a friend even more than him. He deserves everything, and so much more.” Reyna spoke firmly against the silent crowd, watching as faces began to soften and praise Nico at his involvement.

Cheers exploded over the crowd, roaring with approval, clapping loudly and cheering his name. In the corner of his eye, Nico spotted Will, who looked at him with a gaze that said, _Do you believe me now, di Angelo? You weren’t alone._

Nico blushed, the scarlet red flaming his neck and his whole face, lips parted slightly. He didn’t expect Reyna to call him a hero, a friend, and trust him with her whole life. He didn’t expect demigods to cheer and applaud him for his actions. He didn’t expect anything from this, from this world, from both of the camps. He was too used to being isolated, being left in the shadows, that he had completely forgotten about the love and adoration someone could receive for just being there, being a good friend and comrade.

“We had one home,” Reyna concluded, a smile to her lips. “Now we have two.” 

She pulled Nico into a big hug, arms wrapping around his midsection. The hug was too tight, slightly uncomfortable, but it pulled at his heartstrings and made him feel comfortable, happy, genuinely calm at last. For once, Nico didn’t feel like pulling away. He didn’t feel like leaving.

He buried his face in Reyna’s shoulders and blinked the tears out of his eyes, an appreciative smile on his face.

________

At dawn, he was still bright awake, eyes closed in prayer to his father, when someone rapped at the door.

He opened the door wearingly, registering a soft face with blue eyes and blonde hair, and for a split second of hope, he thought it was Will, who had come to talk to him, possibly about what had happened with Octavian. Then he realised it was Jason.

He almost closed the door on Jason’s face. 

“You okay?” Jason asked softly, a raised brow at the amount of tiredness Nico was holding. “You look-”

“Peachy keen.” Nico snapped, a small amount of disappointment of the person he was talking to not being Will. Then he softened his tone. “Oh- if you’re looking for Hazel, she’s still asleep.”

Jason raised his brows, and gestured for Nico to come outside. 

Nico blinked at the sun, the harsh rays seeping into his vision. Perhaps the cabin’s designers had been right about the children of Hades being vampires- he was definitely not, a morning person. He scowled at the morning sun, eyes trying their best to focus on Jason.

Jason didn’t look as if he had slept any better. His hair had a cowlick on one side and his new glasses sat crookedly on his nose. Nico resisted the urge to reach out and straighten them, or laugh at how stupid Jason looked right now.

They made small conversation about the upcoming events of their lives, puzzling over the lack of prophetic guidance on both camps now, how Apollo was doing. Jason frowned when Nico lied to him about Leo’s whereabouts, staring into the distance. 

Nico felt guilty for squashing his hopes. He was almost tempted to mention his own doubts, his wariness of the death of Leonidas Valdez, how Leo’s death had given him a different sensation, as if Leo’s soul had invented its own way into the Underworld, something that involved lots of gears, levers and steam-powered pistons. 

Nevertheless, Nico was sure Leo Valdez had died. And death was death. It wouldn’t be fair to give Jason false expectations.

“Look, Nico.” Jason started, straightening his glasses. (Which made Nico’s heart breathe a small sigh in relief) “I know what you said back at Auster’s palace, and what we talked about at the stables. Reyna told me you turned her offer down at Camp Jupiter. I- I don’t know if I can change your mind about leaving here as well, but please-”

“I’m staying, Grace.” Nico quipped, smirking when Jason’s eyes comedically widened, and his lips shaped into a small grin.

“You’re what-”

“I’m staying here. The Hades cabin needs a serious makeover. Whoever built it must have thought we were nocturnal vampires. I’ll have to renovate it and make plans with Annabeth. And someone needs to do the burial rites properly, since demigods keep dying everywhere.” 

“You are? That’s amazing! Dude!” Jason opened his arms out for a hug, but then faltered slightly, a sheepish smile on his face. “Right. No hugs or whatever. Sorry.” 

“I suppose this time will be an exception.”

Jason hugged him so tight that Nico felt like his ribs were cracking. But he leaned into the hug, wrapping his arms awkwardly around Jason, mind slightly freezing. He didn’t know what to do during a hug, what to say, how to comfort the other person. He was content, though. For now. For now he would try his best to live his life, learn new things, and enjoy the company of new people. Small, small baby steps. Teeny, tiny toddler steps at the most. He would try.

As Jason rambled on and on about how he and Nico would be the best killer duo at capture the flag, Nico happened to glance towards the cabins and saw someone waving at him, a stern look on their face. William Solace stood in the doorway of the Apollo cabin, two fingers gesture in front of him. He pointed at the ground at his feet, raising a brow questioningly, as if to say: _You. Here. Now._

Nico excused himself from the conversation and walked up to Will, who had a small smirk on his face, his hands now crossed triumphantly.

“So, are you still ignorantly believing that everyone hates you, or have you learnt now, young Padawan?” Will grinned, quirking a small smile when Nico stared at him blankly. Nico didn’t understand modern references just yet- he had heard Piper talk about America’s Next Top Model a little bit too enthusiastically yesterday and left due to being too confused about the whole thing.

“I’m learning.” Nico tried to be honest, earning a small smile from Will’s lips.

“So, where were you?” Will demanded. He was wearing a slightly wrinkled green surgeon’s shirt, dark blue low waisted jeans and flip flops, his hair surprisingly combed through and untangled. His blue eyes looked demanding, as if they were chasing answers out of Nico’s mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“Bro. I’ve been trapped in the Infirmary for two whole days. You don’t come by. You don’t offer to help.”

“I- Why would you want to see me? Why would you want a son of a death God in the same room as people you’re trying to heal?”

“You can’t help out a friend, di Angelo? Maybe cut bandages? Bring me something for lunch? Or just a simple, _Hey, Will, you good?_ You don’t think I could stand to see a friendly face?”

“My face?” Nico faltered, at a complete loss for words. The sentence made zero sense at all. _Friendly face. Nico di Angelo._ Nico was surely not friendly. To most people, he creeped the shit out of them. To most people, they would flinch when he even gazed in their direction. He didn’t bother with friends for a while, preferring his own company towards others. But something about how persistent Will was, made him believe that William Solace truly wanted to be friends with him.

“You’re so dense.” Will noted, laughing when the tip of Nico’s ears turned bright red. “I hope you got over that stupid shit about leaving Camp.”

“I – yeah. I did. I mean, I’m staying.”

“Good. So you may be dense, but you’re not a fucken’ idiot.” 

“How can you even talk to me like that? Don’t you know I can summon zombies and skeletons and –”

“Right now, you couldn’t summon a wishbone without melting into a puddle of dark gooey shit, di Angelo,” Will said. “I told you, no more Underworldy stuff, doctor’s orders. You owe me at least three days of rest in the infirmary. Starting now.” 

Nico felt like a hundred skeletal butterflies were resurrecting in his stomach, fluttering with joy, delight, anger and frustration. How could Will talk to him like? How did Will even manage to be so brave, ignoring all the harm that Nico could possibly cause him? “I- I- okay.” He gulped.

“Good. Now, do you want to-”

A loud cheer cut through the air, causing Nico to stifle slightly. Both boys turned over to see Percy loudly cheering at something Annabeth had just told him, the boy grinning and punching a fist into the air. Annabeth rolled her eyes and playfully slapped his head, ruffling the boy’s raven hair.

“Be right back.” Nico told Will, who raised a questioning brow at his words. “Swear on the Styx and everything. Give me a quick minute.”

He walked slowly over to Percy and Annabeth, who were grinning like crazy. A year ago, he would have tried his best to avoid the couple as much as possible, not wanting to face the reality that the boy he liked was in love with someone else. The scene gave him deja vu, as if he was experiencing the moment he ran away from Camp again, except the feeling was a lot more mellow and calm, and he knew he was grounded to Camp Half Blood, and that he would try his best to stay in there. 

“Nico!” Percy cheered, an arm slung around Annabeth’s shoulder. “Sorry man- ‘Beth here told me some fucken good news.”

“We’re gonna spend our senior year here in New York, together.” Annabeth explained, a patient smile on her face. “Ignore Percy, he’s just hyped up. And then in a good year or two-”

“College in New Rome!” Percy pumped his fist in the air, laughing loudly at the news. “Four fucking years, just us being regular teenagers, no battles, no monsters. Just me and Annabeth, hanging out at cinemas, crying over exam material, enjoying California as much as we can.”

“Reyna and Frank said we could live in New Rome as long as we like. We’re thinking of moving back here after University, though.” 

“That’s amazing.” Nico smiled politely- he was surprised to find that he actually meant the words, and there were no thoughts in his mind that made him slightly jealous or angry at the couple. “I’m staying here too- Will wants me to help out at the infirmary, and I might pick up teaching sword-fighting.” 

“Bro, I’m so proud of you.” Percy smiled, reaching a hand out to shake Nico’s. Surprisingly, Nico took the hand with ease, gripping the hand with a small smile and nodding his hand.

“So,” Nico started, deciding that this was the time to finally apologise to Percy for all that he had done in the past. “Since we’re gonna be teaching classes together, seeing each other for most of these two years, I think I should clear the air.”

Percy’s smile wavered slightly, expression turning serious. “Hmm?”

Nico stared at Percy seriously, a calm smile on his face. The boy looked less heroic, less mythological. He looked like a regular teenager, a friend, an ally by his side. An imaginary older brother. Not a mythical figure. Not someone to idolise. Not a crush any longer. 

“I didn’t hate you,” Nico continued, the smile growing more earnest on his lips. “I had a crush on you. For the longest time. Since I met you.”

Percy faltered, eyes widening and pausing for a second. A smile came to his face, shocked but seemingly happy. He looked at Annabeth, who nodded and smiled back at Nico. Then he looked at Nico. “You don’t blame me for Bianca’s death- that was-”

“Yeah. You’re a great person. Not my type though.”

“So you’re-”

“Yeah, I like men. Just men.” The words seemed easier to say now, free by tightly wrapped ropes and bounds. It felt like coming up for fresh air, away from a time where he would get ransacked, hated, sneered for the words he had just said. “I’m happy for you guys. Especially Annabeth. Ninety percent of your heroic saves were mostly planned by her.”

“Hey, the Annabeth thing was uncalled for. But I’m proud of you, Neeks. I’m happy you’re happy.” Percy smiled at him, a hand coming out to ruffle his hair. Nico blushed embarrassingly- he was still not used to Percy messing up his hair. He would probably have to comb through it later.

“Oi- Stop messing up my hair!” Nico tried his best to threaten Percy, but the smile that came to his face proved otherwise.

“Yeah yeah, you’ll raise skeletons and zombies to haunt me, whatever. You’re not as dark and emo as you think you are, di Angelo.”

“Boys.” Annabeth quipped, smiling at Nico gently. “I’m proud of you, Nico.” Her eyes were sparkling with joy, with calmness. It was as if everything was alright now, that everything was okay. 

“See you around, Percy.” Nico concluded, raising his hand for a high five. “Annabeth, don’t let him do stupid shit. Please.”

Percy scowled playfully, as Annabeth hit his hand, laughing at Percy’s expression.

Everything was going to be okay.

________

“Three fucking days?!” Nico shrieked at Will, who was grinning and nodding earnestly. 

Nico had thought the healer was kidding. Apparently, he wasn’t.

Over the last few days with William Solace, Nico di Angelo had learnt a lot about the boy, who tended to ramble when he was excited. Like the fact that Will loved canoeing. Or the fact that his mama (Will had a slight Texan accent) found out he was the child of a God when he was glowing on a summer evening. Or the fact that Will was trash at singing, but he did a really good impression of Kanye West’s Yeezus. The boy also loved rap and acoustic songs, always humming some tune when he was around Nico. More, and more, Nico was beginning to find Will slightly endearing, but still very, very, very fucking annoying.

“Yeah, I was serious- three days. I need to heal that claw mark on your arm anyways, di Angelo. It looks infected.” Will quipped cheekily, nocking another arrow in his bow and squinting at the target. He pulled his arm back, and for a quick second, Nico saw the taut muscle stretching slightly, Will’s eyes focused harshly on the target. Will looked herculean, in a way. Kind of brave and muscley and invigoratingly annoying.  
Then when Will missed his shot for the fourth time in a row, Nico smirked, clapping his hands dramatically.

“Ooh, a point to the son of Apollo!”

“Shut up, Death Boy.” Will muttered, nocking another arrow, and finally shooting it straight into the bulls-eye. He yelled a cheer of victory, raising a middle finger into the air, which caused thunder to ripple through the air. Nico found the scene slightly interesting, a stubbornly nerdy blonde boy saying a large fuck you to his father. Apparently, Will Solace had no fear in disrespecting any of the Gods and had a strict moral compass- he probably would have slapped Zeus if Jason had told him what happened to his father.

“So, the Infirmary. You coming or nah?” Will asked, slinking his bow back over his shoulder, arrows placed gently back into the Camp’s training boxes.

“Yep. Don’t make me regret it, though.” Nico nodded, smiling as Will started running towards the Infirmary, his smile turning into a small frown.

“Okay, the last one there has to clean up after midnight!” Will cheered, already way ahead of Nico. Nico glared playfully, catching up with Will’s pace.

“I’m literally supposed to be your patient, Solace!”

## PART III / STAR CROSSED LOVERS

**August 14th, 2010.**

As things start to get better, his mental state starts deteriorating. 

Nico remembers it all too well.

The darkness, the chilling of the atmosphere. The feeling of hatred he had, pressed against his chest uncomfortably, anger, rage, disgust. Snarls erupted off his words, menacing claws digging into the brown haired boy’s chest. Whispers and silent screams echoed around him. Shadows curling dangerously around his body, plunging the space around him to a freezing tundra. Cries of shock and help coming from far, far away. 

The day where he had killed a living demigod. Bryce Lawrence. The name was a painful hiss, a painful memory. He had done it all in good nature, all in a good sense to protect his friends, but at what cost? He was now the only one amongst his friends that had murdered one of their own. Slaughtered, poisoned, took the living soul out of a living human being. Ceased to be remembered, ceased to exist. 

Imaginary claws raked upon his back, his eyes brimming with tears. He remembered the panicked whimpers and fear in Bryce’s voice, he remembered the boy’s fingers desperately clawing at the earth, trying to find a place to anchor his mortal life in. His body trembled vigorously, his hands clawing and scratching at old scars, old cuts, desperate to replenish all the harm he had done in the past to himself.

Akhlys, with her taut voice, stretched with vulgar misery, anguish and rage, had looked up to him once, her red eyes clad with shining tears of joy. “My boy, you are beyond my most wonderful creations. Child of Hades, what more could I do to you? You are perfect! So much sorrow and pain!” She screeched, nails digging into his shoulders, her sunken and rheumy eyes dripping blood onto the ground. Nico froze, his emotions grinding to a halt, a course of anguish only replacing his mind. The waves of anguish were not gentle, they crashed harshly on his chest, tossing and pushing him, hitting his head on jagged pieces of rock. 

Nico knew he couldn’t spend one more living moment in this world. One more moment, and he would succumb to the darkness below him, his body slowly turning into dark wisps of shadow until he ceased to exist. His body shook with his tears, tears flowing with the red tinge of blood that laid on his wrists, small pools of blood blossoming from self inflicted cuts and deeply clawed nails. His tears streamed down his face as he desperately tried to pry his eyes open from the illusions of the world and the ever changing darkness that seemed to follow his footsteps. 

He didn’t want to face this anymore. He spent too many nights awake, eyes wide open, refusing to close. Whenever he closed his eyes, he would see it all again- the melancholic smell of his sister’s perfume all over Tartarus, the bloodied red landscape, veins coursing through the broken land, the ghastly taste of the fire water brushed upon his lips, the dead bodies that littered in front of him, the ones he killed, screaming, begging for mercy.

He couldn’t live like this anymore. He needed to go on a walk, to clear his mind, to clear his sanity, to clear himself of everything that he had touched. His hands, now stained red, dripping with blood of every single being he had ever killed, were trembling, unable to stop shaking with intensity. His throat wrenched with acid rising to his throat and he hurled on his bed, nothing but clear pools of stomach acid coming out. Nico couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, could barely walk. He was a living corpse, a dead amongst the walking, soon to join his father’s kingdom.

Grabbing his sword hastily and banging against the doors of Cabin Thirteen, he ran as fast as he could, his feet pattering against the harsh cold pavement roads. He didn’t stop until he reached the edge of the ocean, his bare feet sinking in the soft sand, the water lapping at him, beckoning him to drown in. His mind courses through echoes of phantom pains, anxiety, a rush for what he was about to do, an overwhelming sense of loss, and a dread for his current situation.

He felt like he was grieving, but he didn’t know what he was grieving for. 

Unsheathing his blade, the Stygian Iron glowed against the dark ripples of the sea. He’s never known what Stygian Iron felt like. His father had told him the blade reaped every single soul he had killed into the sword, preventing them from ever reforming. He wondered if this was a permanant solution to his all of his problems, he wondered if this was all it took for the uncountable days of torture to stop, he wondered if after this, he was going to finally be able to see if sister and mother again- a happy family, reuinited on grassy hills, the sun shining on the trio. 

He sits silently on the sand, listening to the waves crash over each other. The blue-black sky above him is clear- dark looming clouds gently brush over twinkling stars. Stars shine with love at him still, during his brightest days, during his lowest days. They shine brightly, just for him, their little prince of darkness. 

He needs to get it out. All the nausea, all the uncomfortable boiling anxiety pressed under his skin, the panic rising slowly, bubbling as if it was about to spill all over. He doesn’t know any other way, but this is okay, this is alright, he needs this, he will choose numbness over incoming nightmares that shake him awake every single night and every monster he sees in the corner of his vision. He will choose this method if it prevents any horrid thing coming into his mind ever again. 

Thinking only makes it worse. 

He drags the tip of his blade across his wrists, slanting them upwards, slashing through previous parallel white lines. He watches as blood slips out of the vertical lines, his vision now a little numb and faltered. It’s as if the world has slowly gone grey around him, slowly down, bringing him to eternal sleep with it’s last lullaby. Gritting his teeth through the slight pain, he moves his sword to slice neatly amongst the other hand, and his sword clatters uselessly to the side as he shakingly raises his wrists. Perfectly slicing through previous cuts and scars, they drip blood on the marbled sand, coating the pure grains with tinges of dark red. 

The blood is a bit too red, a bit too gruesome, but at the same time, enthralling, exciting, engaging. It’s fascinating to watch his enemies’ faces as they succumb to a painful death, but his own interests him even more. It’s luring him to eternal peace, to eternal slumber. To wake up and see his mother and his sister beside him.

_Oh, fuck. What did he do now?_

He feels woozy all of a sudden, and his head hits the sand beneath him, laying on the cold beach as his eyes look up towards the dazzling sky above him. He sees millions, millions of constellations above him, each reminding him of the time when he was young and his mother pointed out each beautiful star, dying out, shining it’s utmost glory before it lived out it’s life.

Nico hears shouts and harsh footsteps behind him, and his head feels too tired, too stiff to move. His vision intercepts a young man looking at him- black haired tousled by the wind, green eyes wide with alarm, knees crouching and arms pressing deeply into his own. _Percy_. It seemed ironic how Percy Jackson, the boy who once found him and his sister and brought him into this miserable, wretched world, was the one to find him leaving it. 

Nico’s lips curved slightly, smiling weakly at the figure above him. He heard shouts and panicked yells, hands shaking his shoulders roughly. He offers a weak grin to the man above him, croaking out the last sentences he’ll hopefully ever utter to anyone in pain. “I can see the stars, Percy. It’s been too long since I could see **her** , Perce. It’s Bianca- She’s smiling at me, fuck, I can’t believe all it took was this to see her.” He laughed humorlessly, watching as the male next to him shoved his hands beneath him, picking him up. 

“Nico, you’re safe. You’re safe, I promise. I’m getting you to the infirmary.” 

So close to his death, Nico can finally see the edges of his father’s kingdom peaking into his vision. Only that it’s warm, not cold, and it feels just like home.

“Percy, I can see her. Bianca. Mamma. The stars. They’re shining so bright, so wonderfully. I can finally see her again.” He murmurs quietly, a hand outstretched, recalling every constellation he was able to see. 

He dies with love for the stars. 

________

For a second, it feels like he had succeeded. 

Then the harsh beeping machine around him sneers at his hope. His eyes blink harshly, adjusting to the bright sun shining in his room. He feels like a disappointment. 

He had tried so hard, too hard and he didn’t succeed. Nico looks at his surroundings- there’s harsh beeping from behind his head, some mortal machine rating out his heartbeat. A glass of ambrosia sits on a table, alongside his rings, personal belongings that he had with him at the beach, disposed of in a clear ziploc back. 

He feels too nauseous, too sick to believe his current scenario. He doesn’t remember much, he tries to pry information from the back of his brain but only hazy images of a black haired boy shaking his body come back to him. He doesn’t remember.

The thinking makes him so sick he clamps his mouth shut and tries his best not to throw up. He hears rustling, shuffling next to him and he secretly prays it’s a monster, coming to the infirmary to finish the weak off. He hopes that he will sleep again soon, closing his eyes and praying to his father that he could just die.

Instead, a hand passes a bucket in front of him, patting his back gently, as Nico throws up hoarsely, coughing out mostly pale liquid and chunks of green stuff here and there. The hand continues reassuring him, and Nico doesn’t want to believe that this is real. He begs for his death again, his mind wandering places as he tries to talk to his father. _Please. You’ve never done anything for me before. I just want to see them, I just want to stop thinking. Please, father._

“You’re awake. That’s good, at least.”

He turns his head to catch a glimpse of the same black haired boy standing next to him, feels faint all of a sudden, and squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them again, Percy is standing next to him, his hands awkwardly shuffling around- playing with his shirt. 

“What happened?” Nico whispered quietly. He doesn’t want to believe the situation he’s in until he hears it from another person. Percy passes him the glass of ambrosia and he tries to grab the glass- only to see his hands covered in millions and millions of white bandage, covering his wrists from the start of his elbows. His hands are sore, painful, and they hurt at every movement. He wonders if this is just a really fucking shitty dream- he would do anything to fall back asleep again.

“You died in front of me, Neeks.” The older male starts, hands running through his hair slightly. “I found you at the beach at four in the morning and you were bleeding. Rushed you to the infirmary, woke Will up. It took most of his energy to even fix the smaller cuts on your wrist- I think we both know now that Stygian Iron is a bitch to handle.” Percy tries to jump at the chance for a joke, but fails horrendously. 

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah man, you had us worried. Your body kept flickering, which was fucking creepy, by the way. Will had to try to get as much sun into you as possible before he could start stitching everything up.” Percy explained to him as tears welled themselves in his eyes. To think that he had made a good attempt to end his life- how it had almost worked, and to get caught by Percy, someone who he had looked up to for his whole life, and Will, one of his closest friends. The stinging embarrassment made him close his eyes, fists clenched slightly, nails digging in.

“How long was I out for?”

“Three days. You snore.”

“Fuck off, Jackson.” Nico manages to laugh hoarsely, eyes frowning in confusion when Percy puts a finger to his lips and tilts his head slightly towards the side.

Blonde hair clumped, soft golden tufts sticking out, eyes shut and hidden under a soft fleece blanket, was Will, who had commandeered most of the small armchair next to his bed. Will looked peaceful sleeping, a fist clenching one corner of the blanket, another one propped behind his head. He seemed like an angel- the sun’s soft rays shining on his forehead, a soft blush blooming on his cheeks, mouth slightly open.

“He won’t leave the Infirmary,” Percy continues quietly, shifting a nervous look at the blonde male. Nico notices that next to Will’s sleeping figure are several clipboards and notepads, heavily written in incomprehensible english and diagrams. “He just buries himself in numerous paperwork and case files, barely even leaves your room.” Percy helps him sit up quietly, moving several pillows to withstand his back. 

Nico frowns, shocked. He’s confused as to why a boy like Will Solace would stay in a room so devoid of life, thick with the atmosphere of despairing, dangerous, death. Will Solace does not seem scared of him, does not seem terrified at his actions, his motives, his powers. 

Nico is heavily confused by that. He’s never received special treatment from anyone — teachers found him too quiet, too meek, too silent ; demigods found him too powerful, too silent, too dangerous. Yet Will doesn’t seem to care, doesn’t seem to mind that he is sound asleep next to a boy with a reputation so herculean and violent, a boy who senses death around him at every waking hour. 

Will stirs quietly next to him, curling into the armchair snugly. The blonde looks so tired, eerily resembling a Tim Burton character. His eyes are puffy, bags of skin underneath his eyes, the purple tint matching the virtue of his wisdom. Will works too hard sometimes— he’s seen it before during the Titan war, cat-like eyes, intense and malevolent, calm but seemingly charged with electricity, hands nimbly patching up wounds, stitching up cuts. His stare is always unflinching, intense, utmost and undisturbed, blank at the ghastly wounds campers tend to present, too focused on his work.

Nico smirks when he sees a small trail of dried drool on the corners of Will’s lips, laughing silently at how idiotic the blonde looks right now. Will’s shirt is wrinkled slightly, creased in several positions where he had shifted and turned on. His hair seemed like a complete mess, certain tufts of blonde hair disarrayed against each other, fighting a monstrous battle to stand straight. Then Will yawned and his eyes blinked, peeking tiny tiny sky blue colored eyes, matching the colour of the ethereal blue sky.

Then Will’s eyes turned to his figure, and Nico felt himself hold Will’s gaze for too long. He flushed, turning his head slightly and coughing. The blonde boy frantically stood up, placing a hand on his forehead. Nico flinched at the touch, eyes widening in fear. Memories and memories of last night’s events came flooding back to him, making him aggressively aware of what he had done. What if Will hated him for what he did? What if Will would sneer at his actions, and simply tell him that he should have tried harder, should have picked a more remote location, should have not let Percy save him?

Instead, the blonde boy hummed, nodding quietly. “Your RBC count looks higher. Drink some water- you’re dehydrated.” He hands a small plastic cup to Nico, the pink straw floating on top of the water mindlessly. Nico blinks at the boy and slowly takes the cup, quietly drinking from the straw. The atmosphere is tense, drawing awkwardness from everywhere in the room- the curtains drawn for privacy do nothing to help- it only makes the situation more awkward for Nico himself. He watches as Percy coughs quietly and excuses himself to sword training, leaving the curtained zone to just the two of them. 

The awkward silence prolongs for too long- small beads of sweat are clinging themselves onto Nico’s back, dampening his shirt slightly. He feels out of place, so hopelessly stuck in a world where he’s so sure he doesn’t belong, so ironically in the world he tried to leave. There’s nothing more he wants that to fall back in eternal slumber so he doesn’t have to bear Will’s stare on his forehead, his wordless gaze convicting a million words that he couldn’t possibly process, a plethora of emotions in the atmosphere. It’s suffocating- and he feels like he’s about to choke, about to spill his emotions out and start crying all over again.

He doesn’t even realise that he’s subconsciously came to rub his wrists until Will pries one of his hands apart, a small frown on the blonde’s lips. 

“I’m sorry it had to come to this, Nico.” Will whispers, a comforting hand settled on his, separating his hands apart from scratching or picking at the bandages. “Whatever you’re feeling right now, all the sadness, all the embarrassment, it’s alright. It’s okay.” Will’s words are what Nico swirls around in his head for a thousand times, replaying the words, trying to divide and pin down the emotion that Will was feeling. Will wasn’t angry. He wasn’t disgusted. He was just here, here for Nico, here for him as a friend.

“What.. what happened? Medically?” Nico gulps, placing the small plastic cup down on the table in front of him. The atmosphere in the room is still heavily awkward, heavily tense, but Nico seeks comfort in the pleasuring silence that it gives, the serene scintillating solitary silence that fills the warm room like a soft blanket, covering him head to toe. Will looks gentle in the sunlight, like a lanky cat stretched out in warm sun, his features etched and marked by the glowing sun. He was truly his father’s son.

“You fainted from hypovolemic shock when Percy had called me. Stitched you back up, placed you on blood transfusion. That’s mostly it.” Will spoke quietly, his hands letting go of Nico’s. Nico quietly longed for the blonde’s touch, hoping that the touch would send him into peaceful tranquility again, quiet and safe against the world. 

Nico nods. He’s trying to accept his current reality, the sad attempt he made on ending his life, the whole night before, the nightmares and the terrifying hallucinations he’s had. He only remembers miniscule monochromatic pieces of information, all in black and white, as if played out in slow motion, bits and pieces missing from his timeline. It feels like leaving the Lotus Hotel and stepping into the new world again, new information fresh on his lips, awake in his mind, pouring all over his consciousness.

“I’m sorry.” Nico mumbles, his eyes directing towards the wooden floor of the infirmary. He can feel Will stiffen next to him slightly, as if just reminded clearly of the situation. The thought of Will sneering at his failure is in the back of his mind again, a sick feeling coming up his throat.

“Look at me, Nico. It wasn’t your fault.” Will murmurs. Nico tilts his head up slightly to see blue eyes stare right back into his, and his eyes widen in alarm for a quick second, frightened at the next possible situation. Even if Will accepted it, he didn’t want to talk about the topic. He wanted to bury this whole moment in the Lethe, possibly under thousands and thousands of dirt, kept hidden underneath numerous and numerous skeletons. “It’s alright to think this way. I’m here for you, Nico. No matter what. You have me. You have me as a friend, as an ally, as the most annoying doctor to ever exist. I’m going to be here for you no matter what. You don’t need to tell me what caused it.” 

“You’re not.. you’re not mad?” 

“No. Mad at what happened to you, but not mad at you. This is alright.” 

“I- I don’t want to talk about it. Not now.” Nico declared, a puzzled look on his face. He wasn’t sure as to what the current situation was, but he was sure that sometime, someday, he would be able to open up about it. Someday. Not now. Not for the remaining of the year. Maybe in two years, maybe he would open up about it someday. 

Hopefully, that someday will happen soon.

Will nods quietly, and he directs their conversation towards something more mundane- something about how another Aphrodite camper came up to him crying about how they had a hangnail. They make small conversation about the events in camp, never brushing across sensitive conversations or alarming topics. Will’s rambling about one new Apollo kid learning the ropes of the Infirmary makes him laugh- the boy sounds extremely annoyed at the fact that the camper can’t properly identify cardiovascular and muscular endurance diseases, because it’s _‘clearly the most important thing to exist,’cause we’re all demigods training for war!’_

Their conversation fades to a small halt when Will’s called by one of his siblings to check on one of the new patients, and Will shouts that he’ll be there real soon. He smiles at Nico, who pauses his whole thought collection to a slow grind. A small part of Nico’s mind longs for Will to stay, a slight discomfort and pain in his eyes, his heart beating slowly every beat, and he felt that if Will left this second, he might lose all his sanity, the thoughts in his mind might return, and he wouldn’t have much to distract himself from.

“I’ll be back real soon. Promise on the Styx.” Will murmurs, a hand pressing over Nico’s slightly. Nico’s wary of the touch, wary of the things that Will might do, but he chooses to let it stay, to let the blonde’s freckled hand stay on his cold palms, hoping that the touch will ease his mind.

Nico smiles awkwardly as an answer, a small amount of discomfort rising slightly when Will lets his hand go. Will pauses before walking to the edge of the curtains, looking back at Nico on the bed, a blanket wrapped around his thighs and eyes closing just slightly, weary from all the talking.

“It’ll get better, Nico. I promise.”

Nico hopes his words are truly prophetic.

________________________

**September 9th, 2010.**

Life is slightly getting better, Nico realises. Will wasn’t lying.

It took time and a lot of convincing, but Nico realises that he’s back on both of his feet, sort of. He’s still stumbling and learning the ropes, but he learns from the mandatory therapist that Will assigns him to that, everything is going the way it is, that he cannot control the fate he has because the fates are slowly planning his own, and all he can do is live the life he has and live it to the best. It’s a bit disappointing and worrying, but Nico knows better than not to question it. 

He signs up to teach kids sword fighting alongside Percy, who pops in and out for his SAT prep and classes. The black haired male is more quiet, more drawn towards himself now. He seems to look more mortal these days, showing up to camp in blue swimming team hoodies and drowning himself in piles and piles of school work. The hoodie is absolutely ironic, and Nico snarkily jokes at Percy during lunch at the docks how he’s basically cheating the athletic system.

He gets a small slap of water on his face in return.

Annabeth introduces him to english literature- good, soothing amazing english literature, stories and words filled with mountains and rivers and fake deities and amazing characters, and he absolutely falls in love with it. The way writers write their words out on a small page amazes him, amazes him at how much emotion they can put into a single page, how they can make their readers gasp and marvel at certain scenes. He’s currently buried in Edgar Allen Poe’s Tell Tale of the Heart, quietly trying to get his dyslexia to work so he could focus on the silence of his cabin and the words that keep shifting back from Italian, to English, to Greek. He blinks vigorously, trying to get his eyes focused on the tiny words, but the sentences jumble themselves, rearranging in several orders, and he groans in pure misery. The words are slightly blurry to him too, and he frowns and squints at the words once more. 

He’s never had a reading problem. His eyesight should be perfect, should be alright. That said, it ironic how he hasn’t had an eyesight check in nearly 70 years. 

The door to his cabin opens, and a voice laughs loudly. Nico spins up from his bed, eyes snapping towards the person at the door- and to see a blonde boy, leaning slightly on the doorframe, a picnic basket in his hand, he sighs in relief. The blonde’s blue eyes squint at him behind gold framed glasses, and they snort at how close the book is to Nico’s face.

“Bro, I think you and I both have a sightseeing problem.” Jason quips, smirking when Nico groans and smacks his face in the novel he’s currently holding. Will has never mentioned what far-sighted or near-sighted vision is like, the boy being absolutely prime in his health ( _‘Apollo kids cannot get sick, di Angelo!’_ ), and the fact that he’s never considered himself to be partially blind. 

“Shut up, Grace. I’m trying to understand what the fuck Edgar Allen Poe is saying.” Nico drawls, drawing himself out of the bed. The scars on his arms have slightly disappeared due to an alarmingly increasing amount of ambrosia intake, and they’re now just faint pink lines on his arms. Not one of his friends make comments on the lines- they take it in slight passing, as if they don’t bother them. 

“We’re having a picnic at the docks. Percy, Annabeth, you, me, Piper, Clarisse, Cecil, Travis, and Will, I think.” Jason answers, pushing the door slightly wider. The sunlight glares at him through the ajar door, and Nico squints at the amount of light that comes through. It’s a stark comparison towards the amount of light he’s usually used to receiving, the sun brightly shining outside versus his usually dim lighted room. 

Nico nods, throwing on his aviator jacket and Jason beckons him to walk. It’s quite sunny today, but the weather isn’t too hot for him to feel uncomfortable. There’s a small breeze shifting around, the strawberries in full bloom, dryads and Demeter kids frolicking around the field. He spots the Nike twins viciously fighting each other on the courtyard, blades clashing against each other. (He has a small nagging thought to fix their positions.) 

When they finally approach the docks, he’s greeted with Clarisse sitting on a red blanket with Piper and Travis Stoll, playing a heated game of Slapjack, hands furiously flying at the card piles. Percy and Cecil are arguing over economic values within society- which he finds a complete shock to see, because Percy was never one for Economics, and Cecil has a knack for stealing everything he sees and blaming it on capitalism. Will and Annabeth are energetically playing a game of volleyball, slapping the ball back and forth towards each other. Annabeth’s eyes are narrowed in concentration, hitting the ball back to Will everytime he throws, and Will’s lip is bit attentively, jumping slightly to hit the ball that Annabeth throws at him. He ferociously slams the ball down towards Annabeth’s side, the ball hitting the ground a bit too fast- and Nico can see just a little bit of Will’s stomach, tanned tawny muscles stretching out below the cotton red shirt, small dark butterfly wings peaking out by the edge. (Will has tattoos, his mind prompts him. William Solace, good nerdy boy who hates stealing, has tattoos?) 

The blonde boy spots him and shoots a grin- not noticing how the volleyball that Annabeth hits smacks him forcefully in the face. A loud laugh choruses over the rest of them, as Will’s face turns an embarrassing shade of red and shamefully picks the ball up. 

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Jason jokes, holding up Nico’s aviator jacket as an example. Percy grins and pats the space next to him to sit down, while Nico makes a small beeline to sit next to Will. Will, who he’s gotten a lot closer to, through stupid jokes and small conversations, comforts him in a way that not a lot of people do- Will makes him at ease sometimes, having seen him in his most vulnerable state, having been around him in several embarassing states- the boy makes him feel comfortable around certain situations.

“Pass the strawberries, Grace. I didn’t drop a shift to be starved to death.” Will drawls next to him, a hand stretched out for the basket. Will looks energetic today- as if the boy finally got a good amount of sleep. Under the sun, Will looks energetic, happy and euphoric, and absolutely ethereal. His blonde hair glints under the bright sun, blue eyes gleaming with a sense of mischievousness, tanned arms stretching under the warmth of the weather. His smile is gleaming as usual, lips wrapped around a small strawberry. 

Nico immediately snaps out of his thought zone. It’s one thing to become used to Will’s personality, but it’s a complete other thing to start finding the blonde boy attractive. 

“Bullshit. You got kicked out of the Infirmary last night because you spend too much time there.” Clarisse drawls, causing an embarrassed Will to choke on his strawberry, face heated up a flaming scarlet. Will is the type of person to overwork themselves until someone reminds them to stop, to pause all of his work and take a break. He’s heavily ambitious and stubborn, Nico realises after spending several hours with Will at sword fighting, the blonde never giving up until he manages to correctly advance against Nico’s blade. 

“Annabeth has something to tell you guys.” Percy looks up from his economic notes to slightly nudge Annabeth, who turns a deep shade of red. The girl tries to mask her pride under a good amount of embarrassment, but Nico can see through it- whatever Annabeth’s about to say, it’s made her really proud of herself.

“I have a full ride to UC Berkeley. Environmental design, bitches!” Annabeth cheers, pumping a hand in the air. She looks overjoyed at the words she just said, a full blown grin on her face. Piper smiles at her warmly, a hand placed over Annabeth’s wrist. Nico’s jealous at the way the rest of his friends are so prone towards skin to skin contact, how they accept the touch so easily and so comfortably. It makes him slightly jealous and just a little bit annoyed at himself for not being able to feel that way towards anyone.

“What about you, Percy?” Jason humms, chewing happily on a cookie that Nico longs for. He isn’t big on eating or enjoying food- food is amazing and a national treasure, but eating sugary sweet things just makes him want to vomit. He sticks towards the strawberries, dipping the tip in honey and sticking it in his mouth slowly. The chewing helps him focus on the current conversation, helps him understand and differentiate between reality and imagination.

“Bro, I don’t know. Marine Biology sounds fun and all, but the fact that my teacher is an empousa really, really bums me out.” Percy jokes, grabbing one of the cookies and chewing on it softly. Next to him, Piper is in deep conversation with Travis about some designs she’d planned to add towards the camp’s underground tattoo shop- which shocks Nico to an extent.

“Wait- Piper, Camp has an underground tattoo place?” Nico widens his eyes even further when Travis and Piper nod, and the rest of the demigods aside from Percy and him stare at him in pure embarrassment. Will laughs, the sound refreshing and pure, tinkling against the soft September breeze. He raises a brow in pure mockery, causing roaring laughter to explode against the rest of the demigods when he opens his mouth to ask a simple question.

“You- Nico di Angelo, goth emo death boy- you’ve never known about the tattoo place?” 

Laughter explodes across the group, leaving Percy and Nico to look at each other questioningly. Even Annabeth is laughing, a bright smile on her face. The scene makes Nico smile and happy that the war is truly over, that everything seems to be alright for now. At least they’re catching a small break, and that small break makes Nico euphoric at the slightest.

“Don’t even get me started about Percy. He skates. I thought he’d at least have one or two tattoos by now.” Annabeth chortles, which causes the black haired boy to turn an embarrassing amount of red next to him. 

“Shut up, I was never informed of what happens in this Camp! I just pop in and they send me on random quests!” 

“Okay, Nico and Percy, since you need catching up, let me explain.” Clarisse smiles patiently- an unnatural state to see for most people, but after the war, Clarisse seems to have gotten more mellow and honest, more human and less war-driven. “The Aphrodite, Hephaestus and Hermes cabin have decided to run an underground tattoo parlor just for shits and giggles, but no one knew it would actually bloom out to be quite successful. Will’s gotten several from them.”

“You-” Nico starts, blinking in pure surprise. He turns to Jason to see if he’s heard the information correctly, but Jason just nods and fist bumps Will, the blonde boys sharing a shit-eating grin.

“I’m against stealing, di Angelo. Not tattoos.” Will quips, a small smirk on his face. “Besides, I took Grace here to get his first one. Was fun watching the boy scream in pain.” He slaps Jason on the back, who glares at him, as if daring him to continue.

“Not funny, Solace!”

“Oh, but it was.” 

Nico’s taken aback by the amount of laughter and ease at the conversation, the ideology of getting ink tatted on your skin simply normal for a bunch of teenagers. It seems mundane, normal almost- but nothing about their lives are normal, so that might be why this is just a normal conversation with the rest of them.

He’s smiling at the conversation taking place, amongst comfortable topics and cheeky banter about whether or whether not Jason is more powerful than Percy (both the boys settle on Annabeth being the most powerful at the end), about what Camp Jupiter’s been up to in the recent days and their next quarterly visit, about courses that Percy’s planning to run within Camp, and it’s all small comforting conversation amongst the warm yellow sun. 

Will smiles at him while Clarisse and Percy are thumb wrestling (Percy keeps losing for no reason), and Nico realises that maybe, Will was right in a sense. 

His life is getting slightly better.

________________________

**November 12th, 2010.**

Running is not his forte, Nico realises.

Footsteps drag behind him, slapping harshly on the stone pavement as Annabeth dashes madly in front of him, the blonde’s hair tied in a tight bun, only sporting a sports-bra and shorts so short that they barely reached the middle of her thighs. She’s miles up front, Nico realises, and he regrets ever promising Annabeth that he would accompany her on midnight runs.

Annabeth stops at the edge of the Big House in front of him, a crazed smile on her face, eyes grinning madly. She’s heaving slightly, hands placed on her knees, but she looks more alive than ever. Nico wonders how she even masters the energy to run five kilometers. He drags himself to catch up to her, panting tiredly when he collapses on the stone pavement, his head in his hands, desperately trying to catch his breath. Good fucking Hera, Annabeth was a demon when it came to athletic events.

“That was good.” Annabeth heaves, her breath visible against the cold November air. She’s tired, Nico can tell, but her eyes are bright wide and awake, and she gives off the energy of an excited twelve-year-old who just got told they were going to the amusement park. 

“Good? I’m losing my breath here, Chase!” He growls at her, causing Annabeth to giggle loudly, a hand placed over her mouth. 

“Gods, you’re even worse than Percy.” She grins at him and takes a small sip from her bottle, the water trailing slightly past her lips and down her body. He wonders where all the adrenaline from Annabeth comes from, and his question is answered before he could utter it on his lips.

“My therapist suggested it.” Annabeth starts, kneeling down to the same level as Nico, sweat glistening on her forehead. Her eyes look a little bit more mystified, a little bit more tired to Nico, but her expression is focused, determined, as if a monster could pop up out of nowhere and she would have to kill it with her bare fists. “I can’t sleep, haven’t slept properly since… you know. So she suggested it to me. Running.” 

“Does it help?” Nico murmurs, laying down on the stone pavement. He knows better than not to, knows that if Will was there, the boy would yell at him for lying on a ground polluted with bacteria and dried monster blood. He disregards the nagging voice in his head, pushing it to the side to listen to Annabeth’s soft breathing next to him. The girl mimics his actions, lying on the ground quietly. 

For a while, it’s pure silence- just heavy lungs breathing, gasping in the air surrounding them, a need for oxygen, their lives humming loudly in their heartbeats. Annabeth looks quiet next to him, her face paused in deep thought, eyebrow furrowed, eyes squinting at the midnight sky. Her lips are mouthing some words, but all Nico can read out are several jumbled curses at several Gods, and he chooses to leave her alone.

“When I was in Tartarus,” Annabeth starts, turning her head to him, a quiet look on her face. “Percy and I got turned into ghosts. There was a moment when- there was a moment when I felt too dead to be alive, and that moment has never stopped. So I run. When I feel too tired and the blood is thrumming in my veins, when my heart beats too strong, it’s a reminder for my brain that I am alive. I am alive and awake, and that this will be my waking moment.” 

Nico nods, the bare silence washing over his brain. Annabeth is right in some way- the way his blood roars and crashes against his thrumming heart, the way his heartbeat is so loud he’s sure people could hear it in China, the way his chest heaves for more air, more oxygen to fill his blood, he’s sure that he’s alive. 

“Will lent me his book collection after my attempt. I feel as if avoiding reality and staying in my imagination is the best I can do right now.” Nico whispers to her, trying to be truthful. He hates reality, hates how it claws against his throat, squeezing all too tightly, a painful reminder that he has to live on with his life. The Fates wouldn’t let him die this easily.

“Reality is horrifying, Nico. I barely get past it.” Annabeth tries for a smile- but all that comes out is a small grimace, a tiny bit of hope flying around in the pained expression, masked by layers and layers of sadness and anger. “Percy doesn’t do much better than I do. He did this thing in Tartarus- he sensed Ahklys’ blood and tried to choke her. Coming from that- him realising the horrid extents of his powers- he tries, you know. He tries so hard to be human.” 

“I killed a demigod- Bryce Lawerence- by giving him an express train to Asphodel.” He murmurs, expressing the thoughts that he had out loud. He’s never heard of what Annabeth and Percy had to go through in Tartarus- he’s sure that it was much more horrifying than his journey as he gave up in the middle, and they had endured the whole trip just by themselves. “I pulled him straight down to Hell, in a way.” 

“Sometimes, we don’t even process what we’ve done, and it’s only too late when we realise.” Annabeth nods her head solemnly, as if in agreement, and Nico knows she’s trying her best to understand. Annabeth is a daughter of Athena, born without special powers, almost naturally human if it wasn’t for her intelligence. He knows that sometimes, Annabeth is jealous of their powers, quietly watching while the rest of the demigods train their skills, jealously gripping on her dagger and wishing she’d had a power set of her own. 

“How do you- how do you get past all of this? How do you have the energy?” Nico questions, and Annabeth goes blank at the question- even a daughter of Athena like her does not know the answer. She tries for a smile, pausing and calculating her words before speaking softly. 

“This will pass, Nico. Someday you will look back and smile with grief at all the painful memories that you've had. Someday, you will stop running away from whatever that fears you.” Annabeth answers, playing with her bead necklace all too quietly. Her voice fills the silent night, the way it powers and controls the atmosphere of the quiet scenery, filling it with hope and determination.

“I have Percy. That’s my answer.” Annabeth concludes, nodding when she finds her answer correct. “Find your Percy, Nico. Find someone you can fall back on, someone who grounds you to reality, someone who believes in you as much as you believe in them.” 

_Find your Percy._ The words echo in his head as he tries to understand the meaning of the words, the person he’s trying to depend on deeply, and one blonde headed boy comes to his mind. He realises that he’s had his person all along- he’s just begun realising how much this person meant to him. 

Will Solace is his person. His person to rely on, the shoulder he could lean on, the chest he could cry into. A friend, an ally, a person to help him to be a better person himself. 

He smiles at Annabeth all too brightly, stands up and chuckles. _Life is better when you’re living it,_ he understands. _Life is so much better when you realise that you’re truly living it._

“Let’s go for another lap, Chase.”

She smiles and takes his hand, their footsteps slapping against the stone pavement.

________________________

**January 5th, 2011.**

One of Nico’s strongest memories of the last year is when he was shakingly standing in the middle of Salona, desperately trying his best to retrieve Diocletian’s sceptre from Cupid.

Cupid had told him that love comes in the least expected ways. Love was never expected, never found- it came to you in slow but sure steps, slowly creeping up to you. By the time you had realised, you were falling- falling deep into it, tumbling down acres and acres of green grass and luscious blue skies. Nico hated to admit it, but he knew that the God was right. 

Love came in extremely unexpected ways, and his came in the way of William Solace.

He had never felt anything towards Will. When he first met the blonde boy, the eleven year old had taunted him for cutting himself open on the lava wall. Nico had found the male heavily annoying and stubborn. Now, he wasn’t sure what feelings he had for the blonde male. Will wasn’t someone who feared or adored him, to Will, Nico was just a friend, someone to tease over, someone to enjoy time with. Will didn’t marvel at his powers, or back away in fear every time he summoned a skeleton. Will, who would gently chastise him for using his powers to do lazy tasks, who would always bring a plate of food to Nico’s bedside when he was stuck in the Infirmary, who would guide him to properly learning how to suture fake skin. Will, who seemed completely normal to Nico until this day.

Nico wouldn’t admit this to anyone, but Will had always been attractive in some sorts, soft blonde tousled hair glinting against golden sunlight, blue eyes that matched the colour of the sky whenever they were outside, thousands and thousands of freckles scattered on the boy’s face, mapping out constellations on his skin, a plethora of stars under one galaxy. Muscles etched against tanned skin, curving perfectly as if designed by sculptors, small dimples on the small of his back, freckles scattered across the whole of his body. Will called his freckles simply frustrating as they appeared more and more when he stepped out into the sun, but Nico admired them secretly- they were like small stars scattered across the dark night sky. 

And yet, from the moment he met Will, he had felt nothing but pure annoyance towards the boy. Sure, Will was polite and gentle, and he managed to get the likes of everyone he met, but something about the boy just unnerved Nico. Whether it was the fact that Will didn’t care that he had enough power to send someone straight to Asphodel, or the fact that Will would snarkily say _‘Doctor’s orders, di Angelo’_ after ordering him to more days of bed rest, or the fact that Will would laugh at the first time Nico tried suturing and got the stitches all messed up.

Will was someone to him. Someone to geek out to about mythomagic cards, (‘You play mythomagic?’ ‘No fucken’ way. You play?’) someone to talk to when rain scattered against the glossy Infirmary windows, someone to lean against when things all went too wrong. Someone to care, someone to protect, someone to love.

Will’s the only one who can touch him without Nico shuddering. Nico doesn’t know how it happened, but he remembers the first time Will had placed his palm on Nico’s face and his mind went blank with worry, a slow amount of anxiety rising in the back of his throat. He had stared at Will awkwardly until deciding to slowly remove Will’s hand from his face. Now, he was much more comfortable with Will- small touches here and there, arms gently wrapped around his shoulders, his head on Will’s shoulder when he felt too tired, it all came naturally. With anyone else, he still felt slightly awkward, slightly pained at the added touch, but with Will, he felt alright.

Now, sitting on a canoe in the middle of the river, the oars discarded to the sides of the boat, he’s lying against Will’s chest, his head pressed against Will’s shoulders, pointing out small stars to the older male. He laughs when Will pronounces their names slightly wrong and chastises him in Italian, not noticing how he warms up to Will’s touch on him. Will’s scowling, a fierce look on his expression, trying to memorise the names of the constellations completely. The sun is slowly setting in the background, small clusters of stars already in the magenta sky, gleaming softly. 

“Okay, so that's the Pegasus, below it is the Circlet, then the Water jar, and Equuleus, right?” Will whispers behind him, a hand outstretched to point at the gleaming galaxy. Nico laughs quietly and nods, his arm moving out to move Will’s in the correct position. Then he is painfully aware of the fact that he is holding onto Will’s hand, fingers laced within fingers, grasping comfortably against each other’s, wrists touching slightly. The touch is ethereal, and it feels like pale grey monochromatic butterflies are fluttering around in his stomach again.

Will coughs, a bright red tint on his face. He drops their hands back to his side, but their hands are still deeply intertwined, Will clasping them together and holding them tightly. Will’s hand feels safe- a heaven made just for him, a shield against everything evil, everything so disastrous in the world. Will feels safe, protecting him against everything that could possibly happen to him.

He feels as if he could fall in love with the blonde boy in front of him. 

Will stares into his eyes for a split second- the brightest blue peering into the curiousest brown, eyes never leaving off Nico’s. Nico doesn’t feel judged by Will’s stare, he feels loved, accepted, held against the swallowing whirlpool that was the boy’s eyes, slowly beguiling him to fall in a romantic trance over and over again. He feels like he could take a picture of this moment and keep it in his memory forever, pressed against the memories that make him feel like he’s home all over again. 

Then a pestering naiad giggles and rocks their boat, and Nico almost falls off.

Nico lets out a yelp at the sudden rocking, almost bolting upwards if it wasn’t for Will’s hands to ground him down. Will’s hands are pressed on his shoulders, holding him against the rocking boat. The blonde’s face turns even more red and he starts chortling, as if the current situation is humorous to him, and his laughter is one of the sweetest things Nico’s ever heard in the world. Will smiles at him- and the smile is so effortlessly genuine, so effortlessly hopeful, and it gives Nico hope- hope for the future, hope for the life he’s living.

Then he notices Will’s face move a little closer, lips cherry red and tinted slightly by the lip balm he’s wearing. Nico’s mind panics slightly- but he knows that it’s now or never, and he knows that living his life out like this- it’s definitely what he wants, and what will bring him eventual solace.

His lips press gently against Will’s, and all is forgotten in the world temporarily. All Nico can think about is how Will’s lips taste like mango, the taste of it ever so luscious and fragrant, and he wants to dive deeper, to submerge himself in Will’s lips completely. It feels like Elysium, pure heaven, a place for only the best of the best to reach, and he’s experiencing it on land, on Earth, in a place where he’d least expect himself to be in. Will’s hands are cupped effortlessly against his cheeks, the bend of his thumbs and forefingers wrapped around the whole of his face, holding him in reality. Nico moves his hands to rest on Will’s neck, holding him securely, never wanting to ever let go, never wanting this moment to stop. 

There was something about kissing Will that felt like experiencing every good memory he ever had. It felt like being close to the sun, wrapped in the warmth and the absolute love, the heat comfortable and warm, casting softly against his skin. It was stunningly heart stopping, pausing all his thoughts and discarding them to one side, Will preoccupying his mind. A meteor could wipe out the Earth right now, and Nico wouldn’t care. 

He wonders if this is what Elysium felt like. 

Then the boat rocks again, followed by vigorous choruses of giggling from the naiads below them, and both of them fall apart, cheeks tinged crimson with even more blush, and Will giggles, a hand brushing the back of his neck. Nico can feel the heat on his cheeks, creeping all the way up from his neck, and he blinks, trying to process everything that had just happened. 

He remembers the first time he noticed Percy. The boy held his sword out, glistening golden against the midnight sky. He saves his sister and a ten year old version of him from a large monster. 

Nico was immediately enamored with the black haired, green eyed male. 

Now, he feels as if he’s falling in love all over again. Will Solace, stupid smirking snarky Will who speaks with no power in his tone, but brings the whole camp to a silence. Will Solace, healer boy extraordinaire, a heart weaved from pure gold, his intentions deeply loyal and from his heart. The boy acts on his heart, his emotions, his wit. Will’s face, which gleams with hope everytime he sees a new demigod training, freckles contrasting against the tanned skin, a smile ever so wonderful, giving Nico hope in all the ways that he couldn’t have possibly imagined.

And Nico is falling, slowly but surely, for him. When he liked Percy, it came in roaring waves, crashing against his heart all too tightly, every single thought hurting him. With Will, it felt like slow flames leaping with the joy of a dancer, sparks pirouetting, giving their all in this brightest of performances. Slow flames burning like embers in his heart, sparking him to fall in love slowly but oh-so-surely. Slow and warm flames echoing against the winter sunset, and Nico is so giddily happy right now.

Will pulls Nico closer again, the blonde’s chest pressed against his own, and he looks at Nico quietly, a soft scarlet tinge on his face. The boy has never looked more hopeful in his life, Nico realises, and he smiles softly at how Will holds him, fingers intertwining against his own again.

“Date me, di Angelo. I promise to make all your days good ones.” Will whispers quietly, squeezing his hands a little bit tighter- and Nico swears he falls in love just a little bit more right there.

He nods wordlessly, and presses his lips against Will’s as an answer. 

________

They’re seated in the dining pavilion, and Nico cannot get the previous hour out of his mind. Soft, teasing, tantalising kisses pressed against his lips, bodies pressed against bodies, enjoying the beautiful starlight above them. It’s only until the sound of the dinner bell rings across Camp that they silently row back to the docks, Will’s hand intertwined in his tightly, the other hand wrapped around his waist as Nico rows. Will presses a small kiss to his forehead and they walk silently to the pavilion, knuckles and thumbs brushing against each other’s slightly, both giddy with happiness.

They sit in separate tables- but something about Will laughing with the rest of his siblings makes Nico slightly jealous, longing for a glance from the blonde boy to be sent his way so his heart could feel alright again. Will’s hair is still messy from the amount of times Nico has put his hands in them, and his lips are slightly swollen, but not too swollen to be noticed. Will’s eyes catch his for a split second, a bright smile blossoming on the latter’s lips, and Nico blushes and looks down, shy from all the attention that Will is suddenly giving him. 

He stands up and moves his food to the Apollo table. The demigods are slightly shocked at the new arrival, but Will laughs and continues the conversation as if nothing ever happened, moving slightly to give Nico space right next to him. Nico smiles and sits down, listening to their conversation. Will is joking about how he’s learnt more medical knowledge than most New York doctors, and he can diagnose patients faster than most. The Apollo campers chime in about medical facts and some new gossip about the music industry, and Nico silently listens, silently admires at how ethereal Will looks right now. 

He moves his leg slightly underneath the table, tapping Will’s ankle as a response. The boy falters in his conversation slightly and Nico smiles at him, causing the boy to laugh and continue the conversation with ease. Underneath the table, Will cheekily kicks his foot back, and Nico stifles a giggle in response, pretending to pay attention to the conversation they’re currently having. It’s over small kicks and nudges with their toes that send Nico’s heart into sonar rockets- he’s marveled at the idea that Will does like him, that his feelings weren’t mistaken for friendship, that someone like William Solace truly had feelings for him.

The conversation with the rest of the Apollo cabin continues with ease, Nico chiming in slightly at certain times, asking small questions or providing monosyllabic responses, but his small fight with Will underneath the table continues. It’s childish, impish and playfully, the way Will steps on his foot playfully a few times, creating a small rhythm that the younger boy would copy back. It’s a romantic gesture nonetheless- and Nico is so ecstatic at the situation. 

Then dinner finishes too quickly, and the rest of the campers disappear slowly out of the pavilion, all wandering towards the campfire for their nightly contests. Will stays behind and holds the corner of Nico’s shirt, preventing the boy from going any further. Nico turns around to see a sheepish smile on the older male, a soft pink tinge on his face as he pulls Nico towards a hidden corner of the pavilion, safe from prying eyes, and kisses him again, lips pressed wonderfully against his own.

Nico squeaks in surprise, but melts into it softly, his hands coming up to Will’s hair. He’s beginning to enjoy the feeling, the feeling of words and emotions spilt across a pair of lips, pressed against his own, so wonderfully comfortable. He smiles dazedly when Will presses him against the wall, ever so close to his body, arms gracefully wrapped around his waist.

“Wanna pick up where we left off at the docks, di Angelo?” Will murmurs into his ear, and Nico is using all of his energy into not blushing furiously at the question. He nods and pulls them into the shadows, not bothering to repeat the walk back to the docks. Shadow-travelling takes less of a toll on him now, barely using his powers when he’s needed, and the fact that Will can slightly lend his energy, creating a small glimmering gold pathway through the heavy shadows, gives him all the energy that he needs.

They lay against one of the wooden poles of the wooden dock, Nico fitting himself comfortably against the blonde’s chest, hands intertwined and eyes gazing up into the night sky. The sky gleams above them, and all seems too well to be true. Will’s hold on him is the only thing grounding him to reality, the only thing that keeps him so comfortably sure of the current scenario being completely vivid and not imagination.

He closes his eyes and leans against Will’s touch, the blonde stroking his hair and curling his fingers through the tangled mess. All seems too well to be true, and yet he knows it is a possible reality.

________

His friends find out one by one, and to say that their reactions are the funniest and most embarrassing things that Nico’s ever seen in his life is an understatement. 

Jason is the first- he finds out that night, the blonde on a midnight run when he notices him and Will fast asleep on the porch, and laughs, his face turning into a bright smile. His cheering wakes up Nico, who blinks twice at the son of Zeus and his face turns a deep shade of crimson red. Jason smirks and waves back at him, the shit-eating grin on the boy’s face growing wider. This causes an embarrassed Nico to blush even more ferociously and turn his face into Will’s chest, who glares at Jason with looks that could absolutely kill. 

Jason eagerly tells him that they helped him win ten drachmas from Percy and leaves the lovers to themselves.

Jason is also extremely good at keeping secrets, because the others all find out by themselves, on pure accidents. Drew is the second to find out when she notices Nico wearing Will’s blue hoodie, a bright smile on her lips. She tells Nico softly that Will is one of the most genuine people she’s ever met, and that she wishes them truly all the best. It’s the first and the last time he’s ever seen a girl like Drew Tanaka be truly romantic and happy for him.

Piper snorts when she catches Will and Nico lip locked during Capture the Flag, their posts completely forgotten. She tells them that half the Aphrodite cabin bet on them getting together- this causes Will to turn a dark shade of red and curse Piper with rhyming couplets. (She had the curse removed after several desperate pleads.)

Hazel and Reyna wake Nico up at three in the morning when Reyna IMs him, to only find him fast asleep against a blonde’s torso, an oversized grey hoodie slagging off his shoulders. _Nico drools,_ according to a laughing Reyna and a flushing Hazel, and they both send their congratulations to the pair. Reyna does her traditional hurt-Nico-and-I’ll-kill-you speech, and the way Will is slightly terrified brings a soft smile to Nico’s lips.

Percy is the last to find out. Annabeth’s the first person that learns about Nico’s relationship when she asks about his ongoing life, and she cheekily tells him to not tell Percy until the oblivious boy can realise it for himself. It’s not even until Will presses a small kiss on Nico’s cheek in the bright morning when Percy gasps and points to them, causing everyone to look over. 

The moment was as funny as Annabeth promised, choruses of groaning and snickering coming from the Greek demigods around their table. (‘Percy, you really are a Seaweed Brain.’ ‘Shut up, I had no idea!’)

Will holds his hand quietly when they’re walking through the strawberry fields, the blonde boy kneeling down every once in a while to pick strawberries for the next picnic their friends are hosting. The January sun is shining just perfect on them, and the way the warmth coming from Will and the sun makes Nico feel warm in all tiny miniscule places, he feels absolutely euphoric at the fact that he’s finally found love for himself.

 _“Where you least expect me, as love always is.”_ A long time ago, Nico would have scorned in the face of love, hating every aspect and detail of the situation, choosing not to believe in any of his feelings. Now, he knows better, knows that falling in love is not dangerous, not horrifying, just normal and completely human. 

Cupid’s words do offer him a new meaning now. Love was never expected, never found- it came to him in slow but sure steps, slowly creeping up to him, in the form of a stubbornly aggravating blonde boy. By the time he had realised, he was falling- falling deep into it, tumbling down acres and acres of green grass and luscious blue skies. Nico hated to admit it, but he knew that the God was right. 

Love came in extremely unexpected ways, and his came in the way of a blonde healer boy with a heart of gold- Will Solace.

________________________

**June 20th, 2011.**

He’s been dreading Apollo’s arrival since the day the dreams started. 

It would only prove his worst nightmares to come true. Stearns Wharf, California. Five yachts on the edge of the docks, drifting across the quiet ocean. Waves picking up slowly, the weather turning sour, dark and murky, lightning flashing across the sky. Screams and cries from one of the boats, lightning echoing across the dull sky. Then a flash, and everything was silent. 

A dead body, dragged and towed by a silver horse. Lifeless, stray and dull blonde hair matted to his skin. A shirt soaked in crimson blood so badly that the shirt was a deep purple. Skin the color of blank parchment, slick with the remnants of arrow tips, broken splinters, speckled with slime, sand and foam. Eyes closed as if sleeping peacefully, lips slightly open. Yet his right hand remained painfully tight, fixated in a pointing gesture, as if he spent his last waking moments giving direct orders. Blood continued to seep from the back of his shirt, but the boy looked like he was asleep after a long day, resting in his dreams. 

All he had to do now was to wait for Apollo to bear the news to him. Jason Grace, his best friend, was dead. The first person who ever learnt who he really was, the male who he would trust with all his secrets, the boy who playfully glared at Will every time the lover made a slight movement to kiss him. 

Jason was dead. Gone, gone, gone forever and never coming back. Nico knew not to question death, not to question the Fates, not to question his father’s doing. And yet, the question was a battle cry on his lips, something to rage and scream and pound at the ground for. Why was his best friend dead? What did he do to deserve death? Why do all heroes, brave, resilient heroes, all die tragic deaths in the end?

The ice cubes shook in Apollo’s glass, confirming Nico’s suspicions. He was dead. He was not coming back, and he was gone forever. Meg gave him her hand. He took it, breathing in slowly, trying to remember every piece of advice he had got from Dionysus, every piece of advice he had learnt from his therapist. Slow, slow but easy, slow but relieving breaths. In through the nose and out through the mouth. 

Breathing felt too painful when he knew that it was something that his best friend could no longer do anymore. He had hoped to see Jason this year at the Christmas reunion with their friends, drinking eggnog, laughing at terrifying encounters with monsters and bickering over mortal games. Jason would have lost at Mario Kart again, the blonde would have sadly admitted his defeat to Nico and Leo and the rest of the crew would cheer. The boy was horrible at video games, and now he wouldn’t ever have to play them again.

He swayed on his feet, almost losing his balance when the ground shifts uneasy under him, as if sensing his pain and discomfort. Meg’s touch is too warm, too alive, and the young girl has survived so much, so much pain and destruction, just under the touch of her fingers. Her aura remains so strong still, a warrior's spirit, fighting until her last breath. Just like how Jason did. 

He flinches from her touch, not wanting to remember how Jason’s hand felt like when the blonde would thumb wrestle with him for shits and giggles. Jason, a boy who used to be so radiant, so charged with energy, his posture slightly rigid from all the previous training and endurance he had as a praetor, but his demeanour always polite and diligent, loyal to a fault, loyal to his friends and his legion. He had died for a friend, at the end. Died for love and belief in a friendship, in a quest that would be succeeded.

 _“Scusatemi.”_ He mutters, pacing down the steps quickly and across the lawn, the ground withering below his feet. He can feel the grass tremble and die under him, and it reminds him all too painfully of all the people he’s lost, all the people he has failed at the end, all the people he’s betrayed and left for their own good.

The ghost that was whispering to him might have been Jason. He’s been hearing whispers from someone deep down in the Underworld, begging him to take them back to the surface, back to the living, back to where it shines comfortable summery sunshine down on people’s bodies, where love exists, where love truly exists for him to fall in love with. 

He silently wished that was Jason- he would go to the depths of Tartarus for the blonde boy, pull his ghostly figure back to the surface, back to where he truly belonged- basking in the sunshine, electric blue eyes gleaming at the weather, a small smile on his lips. Jason Grace belonged to the land of the living, not the land of the dead. 

He doesn’t even know where he’s walking until he notices that he’s trailing at the edge of the docks, right at the spot where Jason and him would sit and munch on strawberries, talk about their daily activities and their lives, laugh about how horrible their dyslexia was for school-related tasks, and enjoy the warm weather above them.

He sits silently, legs hanging off the edge of the wooden panel, and he doesn’t realise how long it has been until a blonde boy sits next to him, an arm wrapping against his waist. He flinches slightly at the touch, but he leans into it afterwards, knowing that the mystery figure was Will, Will who would always come find him after every waking moment, not wanting to be separated from him. They would always find each other in every situation, every rise of dawn, every sunset, every midnight. He would always have Will next to him, and he would always be there for the boy.

“Apollo fainted the moment you left- but that’s not new.” Will tries for a joke, testing Nico’s response. A small smile comes to his lips at how the former God always managed to faint no matter what cause, and it quickly disappears when he remembers the situation at hand. The water below them looks murky, murky with the untellable cause of the future, with the painful reality that they as demigods, have to serve the wrath of power hungry deities and worship them, or it would end in their own deaths.

“Do you think- do you think that the whispers I’ve been hearing could have been him?” Nico manages, a small tear making the way down his face, all too numb by the pain of processing his dear friend’s death. Will is silent next to him, the only reassurance coming from the way he’s tightly holding onto Nico’s side, fingers pressed against the small curve, as if shielding him from all the pain in the world. 

Will’s lips press gently against the side of his forehead, the touch ever so soft and grounding. Every single touch of Will’s gently reminds him that this is the reality he lives in, that this is his world, his life, and the way he lives it, that will be completely up to himself. It was his destiny. 

“I think Jason is a hero, and he died doing what he loved.” Will murmurs next to him, his voice calm against the uneasy tension. Nico frowns, flexing his fingers slightly, trying to process the long chain of thoughts he had, all floating around him, a series of unfinished tasks ready for him to complete. He would have to get focused on what the voices truly meant, what they truly entailed, and then he would have to fight those battles all over again.

The thought of going back into war scared him, but it was the melancholic reality that every demigod faced- a battle raging in their bodies until their very last breath.

Nico leans against Will, intertwining his fingers with the blonde boy’s. Jason’s death was a timely event, a dark storm built across flashing floods, evil earthquakes, heavy hurricanes. He had Will next to him, he had everyone next to him that he could reach out with a grasp. At least he had people around him this time, unlike the last, where he processed his grief a little bit too quietly.

“You and me against the world?” He whispers to Will, who squeezes his hand just a little bit tighter- and Gods, every little thing Will does feels like coming up for fresh air after being at the bottom of the ocean for a little too long.

“You and me against the world.” Will whispers back at him, a soft smile on the blonde’s face.

________________________

**July 1st, 2011.**

The second time is not so different to the first. But at least he has Will next to him.

It seeps in slowly, crawls tightly against his skin. He lays awake every night, not wanting to close his eyes and envision the nightmarish monstrosities that come to his mind. He keeps himself busy reading whatever book he had borrowed out of Will’s library, deep in thought with Edgar Allen Poe’s literature, staying silent until the first glimpses of dawn arrive, casting sunlight slightly against his bed. It’s only then that Nico does pass out, soft sobs and painful pants coming out quietly in his sleep, shifting and tossing aside. He once wakes up to the sound of explosions and for a second, he thinks the sky is bright golden, the air sulfuric smelling, and the scene of Octavian dying plays out all again in his head. He scrambles outside to only see the pale morning sunlight, eyes rimmed red with misery.

He’s so close to committing to one of his old habits again. The razors that he uses to shave his facial hair off gleam at him in the bathroom cupboard, tempting him to a sense of peace, a luring sleep, eternal slumber. He can’t take it anymore, the feeling slowly seeping into his skin, numbing his emotions, keeping him only awake with unimaginable terrors, vivid images of him finding his friends dead on the ground, discovering Will’s dead, pale, sickly body, chest clad with claw marks and deep, crimson blood pooling out rapidly, a silent sneer at the bottom of his head- Lycaon’s threat that he would eventually destroy his loved ones. 

He couldn’t deal with it anymore. Tonight, the stars are gleaming softly in the night sky, and Will is in his cabin, silently reading a journal on clinical infectious diseases. The boy is prepping for his university applications, jotting down notes every once in a while, taking his eyes off his reading material for a small sip of water. Will is hardworking, ambitious and stubborn, and will eventually work himself to death someday if he has a goal in mind. 

Nico doesn’t realise how much time has passed until Will is leaning over at his figure, frowning. Nico blinks wearily, thousands and thousands of words on his lips but he can’t find himself to form a single word. He tugs at Will’s arm and brings the blonde boy closer to him, and doesn’t realise that they’ve been staying silent for too long, Will’s breath slightly fogging Nico’s glasses, his fingers still tightly gripping on Will’s wrist, until Will speaks quietly.

“Is it happening again?” He murmurs, removing Nico’s glasses with his free hand and gently placing them on the dresser. Small touches and small things that Will does are what makes Nico truly happy, truly calm at heart. The way Will wakes up first in the morning and already has the coffee boiled, a cup set aside for him with a small sunshine drawn with foam. The way Will holds his hand underneath the table when they’re eating, rubbing small circles into his palm, tapping on his knuckles playfully. The way Will kisses him goodnight before they go to their separate cabins, his lips soft and tinted with mango lip balm, ever so sweet and ever so gentle.

Nico gives him a wordless nod, shifting slightly to hug Will’s chest, crossing his legs over the male’s lower half, placing his arms on his shoulders. His fingers loosen their slight clench on Will’s arm, but he still clings onto Will like the boy is his lifeline.

“Do you need anything- a drink, something to eat?” Will whispers, his voice muffled into Nico’s hair. Nico closes his eyes and tries to pretend that everything was alright, that everything would be okay and nothing bad would happen anymore. He opens them as soon as his thoughts transcend down to a dark path that smells too much like Bianca’s perfume.

“I need you. Just you.” 

“Alright then.” Will smiles at him- the smile is reassuring and comfortable, and Nico absorbs all the hope that one certain sunshiney blonde boy can give him. He presses his head into Will’s shoulder, eyes remaining wide open, trying to steel himself in the unfaltering chaos of his mind.

“D-Don’t ever leave me, Will. Please.” Nico breathes into Will’s shoulder, eyes about to brim fully with tears, fists clenching tightly on Will’s navy blue shirt, the cotton becoming slightly wrinkled with the force he’s holding it with. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

“I would never leave you, Neeks. I love you too much to ever lose you again. Not after last time. Where does it hurt?” Will breathes back to him, reassuring Nico’s panic into a smaller bundle of fear. Nico raises his head from Will’s shoulder- his eyes are rimmed red, tears ready to spill, a painful feeling welled at the back of his throat. He feels so tired, so exhausted. But what matters is that Will is here, ready to guide him through everything, ready to relieve his pain, ready to calm him down into serenity.

Nico gestures to his wrists, which have begun slowly healing, red cuts fading into pale white lines, etched harshly across his olive skin. 

Surprisingly, Will moves his lips to press against the healing skin, lips calmingly on pale scars, moving softly to kiss at every scar he ever had.

It’s a gentle kiss, lips pressed comfortably on fresh, jagged scars, tiny parallel asymmetrical cuts, barely beginning to heal. The livid long linear cuts he marked with his blade are still there, bandages unravelled, crimson and angry, sending menacing glares at anyone who managed to spare a glance at the hideous mistakes. Nico goes numb at the feeling, lips parted slightly in shock, eyes wearyingly gazing at the blonde boy who simply repeated the action, kissing a smaller one just right between his forearm and elbow, the cut a soft baby pink, jagged edges beginning to close, to heal. 

“Talk to me the next time you ever feel something like this, Nico. You don’t- you don’t even need to talk, I just need you to alert me, to look at me in the eyes, tell me wordlessly, soundlessly, that you are battling your battles again.” Will whispers, lips pressed against his skin, the small vibrations tingling the weary cuts that laid there.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling, Will. It’s dark. It feels like you’re drowning desperately, at the bottom of an ocean, except you can’t see the sunlight above. Your lungs tighten. You claw for air, but there isn’t any. It’s so fucking hopeless.” Nico quietly exhales, tears beginning to flow past his face, watching as Will kissed the tiniest scar on his left pinky, an incident when he was a mere child, scraping his finger on a rough piece of wood. 

“Remember the first time? I had to get out. It feels like you’re slowly being suffocated until there’s no more air to breathe anymore. You’re gasping and screaming for extra air, everything around you feels like you’re back there again, and you have to get out, you have to get out of this gods-forsaken place until you feel like you can breathe again. And you would do anything to get out.”

“We both have our demons to fight, sunshine. It’ll take fucking ages, but someday, you and I- we’ll walk out of this path together, victorious.” Will squeezes him tighter, wrapping his arms around Nico and shifting him up so that he’s laying on Will completely, chest pressed against chest, hearts beating in complete synchronisation. 

“Do I mean anything to you, Will? To anyone? Does me being here actually help anyone? I’m supposed to be this wise son of Hades who’s fought in two wars. People look up to me so much. I don’t even feel like I’m doing anything at all.” Nico whispered, tears flowing down freely on his cheeks.

“Nico, you being here, alive, alive in the moment, your presence, everything, you have no idea how much that means to me. Your voice deserves to be heard. You deserve to be seen for who you really are, the boy beneath all the hardened, roughed up cracks, beneath all the layers of dirt and grime, you as truly yourself.” Will’s voice is unusually quiet, unusually soft, unusually silent against the crashing waves against the beach. He takes a hand out to wipe the glistening tears on Nico’s face, pressing a small kiss to where each tear lays. 

“You deserve better, better, so much more better than what I can offer, Will. What this world has to offer, and better than what anyone can offer to you. You’re an idiot for even pursuing me in the first place.” 

“No, you’re the one who’s the idiot here. Anyone in this world deserves as much as they can get, as much as they want to their heart's desire. I depend on you as much as you depend on me, as desperately and as greedily, I need you here, I need you everywhere, Nico.”

Nico remembers what Annabeth had said to him on their first run, the time they spent together discussing over their problems. 

_This will pass, Nico. Someday you will look back and smile with grief at all the painful memories that you've had. Someday, you will stop running away from whatever that fears you._

Nico had looked into her eyes, diminishingly grey eyes that seemed to have small sparks of hope in them, glowing amongst the dull and tired grey. He had wondered how Annabeth had grown up to become so successful. She had gone through so much more than him, and yet she had emerged a warrior. Now he knew why. She had Percy next to her, keeping her safe, protected, warm against the demons that she was fighting. Percy had her. She had him.

He had Will. Kind, charismatic, stubborn Will that earnestly tried his best to get Nico to take his medicine. Good-natured, charming, benevolent Will that gave him bone crushing hugs at three in the morning, giving him solace and a purpose to live. Will Solace was brighter than any star in the night sky. Will was there for him, twenty four seven, at all times, reassuring him and comforting him. Sometimes, when Will had bad days, days where Will kept to himself and refused to speak to anyone, Nico was there for him too. They had each other, and that was all that mattered in the world. 

Nico watched as Will stroked his hair comfortingly, humming along to the music that was playing quietly in the cabin, the comforting silence amplifying the room with pure support and consolation.

He had Will's whole heart poured out to him, and Will had his infinitive, never-ending love.

________________________

**February 28th, 2012.**

The stars, shining ever so bright, warm full of memories, a blanket for him to fall asleep under, leads him to Will Solace.

Which is quite ironic, considering how Will Solace isn’t like the stars at all. 

Brilliantly smart, blonde hair like the sunshine, heart filled with love like warm rays of the sun, Will Solace is a carbon copy of his father that Nico’s come to love and hate. The way Will scowls when he messes up a single suture, the way Will jokingly boasts about how good looking he is, the way Will hugs him, his chest pressed against the latter’s, a warm embrace full of love. 

Will Solace is the sun that his moon and stars orbit around. As infuriating and bright the boy is, he is the sun. The sun that all the stars in the galaxy lead him to, the sun that his stars have been murmuring about.

Nico di Angelo finally finds the one star that won’t burn out in front of him.

“Hey, are you sure the drill really works? ’Cause I’m tryna get this stupid shelf hung up and it doesn’t seem to be working.” 

It’s nearing midnight, and they’re working on reconstructing Nico’s cabin. It’s been a project that Nico had desperately wanted to do since the day he decided he was staying, staying in Camp for good, never leaving nor having second doubts. It’s taken weeks and weeks of silly and mindless procrastinating, sleepless nights and pots of coffee shared with Annabeth over designing blueprints, playful scowls and cheerful banter with Leo over selecting hardware materials. 

The actual cause of the sudden motivation to renovate Cabin Thirteen, is a mortifyingly embarrassing situation, something that will be giggled over years in the future. Will and him were laying on one of the top bunks of the ever-so gloomy cabin, lips hazily pressed against each other, arms brushing over places that incited soft murmurs and low groans. Nico had _tried_ , keyword being tried, to do something ridiculously careless and stupid, straddling his thighs against Will’s waist, immediately sat up- and hit his head on the ceiling.

Which resulted in a small bruise that left Will panicking to use his powers, a lot of devilish laughter, teasing, and playful frowns. 

“Sunshine, I’m pretty sure blank staring isn’t a form of answering. You gotta say it out loud.” Will cheekily presses, wandering out of the bathroom where he was drilling shelves on. 

There are times where Nico can secretly appreciate Will’s figure for eons and eons, eyes carefully catching and memorising over every single tiny feature, and this is one of them. 

Will’s hair is untamed, wild and slightly plastered to his forehead with sweat. (They had been renovating the bathroom area for quite a few hours) His lips upturned in a cheeky grin, the same grin that force fed Nico breakfast, the same mischievous smile that patched him up after a particularly challenging three-legged race had occurred, the same taunting smirk that had kissed him goodnight in front of the whole Apollo cabin. Will’s shirt was off, (the latter having complained that it was too stuffy in the late afternoon) revealing acres and acres of golden bronze, lush, freckled skin, glowing softly in the pale starlight. Freckles, sun kissed, vividly brown freckles, stretching across his muscles, framing each part of his body perfectly, glimmering like small twinkly stars in the night sky.

A boy made by stars.

“I love you.” 

The words barely processed in his mind, which led to his cheeks flaming a bright red. The words were at the edge of his lips every single time he brushed past Will, every single time they were together. He had come so close to saying it back ever since May, ever since Will had uttered the words quietly to him, the boys both lost in each other’s grasp. There were numerous significant times he had come so close to uttering the words, to only be interrupted by Cecil’s terrifyingly screechy singing at the campfire, or Leo’s keen interest in setting Jason’s shirt on fire, or Lou Ellen’s sudden pig ball prank on several dazed Romans. 

Will looked transfixed, his eyes tilting up slightly and focusing on Nico’s. A small smile spread across his face, hopeful, enamoured to the light, to the happiness, to the requited love that the lovers shared. Light shone across his features- a significant amount of hope, happiness, displayed on his face, portraying the mighty warmth of the sun. The older boy made his way slowly over to Nico, his footsteps echoing quietly in the barren cabin, edging closer to where Nico sat. Will placed his palms on Nico’s, hands pressed against hands, palms pressed against palms, fingertips pressed against fingertips. He kneeled on the ground slowly, eyes shining with adoration at Nico. 

His eyes, full of love, full of warmth, full of trust. 

“I love you too, Neeks. Always have.” Will whispered back quietly, eyes twinkling with an uncountable amount of admiration that filled Nico’s heart to the brim.

Nico smiled softly; he couldn’t help the happiness that filled his heart, a warm feeling replacing the vacant feelings he’s always had. Will makes him feel things, things that he couldn’t even process three years ago, things that make his lungs slightly constrict, his heart pumping blood slowly, heartbeats echoing out loud. One year together with this boy, this boy who managed to make him roll his eyes at how much medical jargon he knew, this boy who managed to make him chortle with laughter at several shitty attempts at mimicking werewolf howls, this boy who tried so hard, every single day, to attempt to glue pieces of Nico’s soul back together, hand stitching every single torn piece, every single broken memory.

“What?” Will laughs, eyes crinkling slightly as he moves to sit on the bed, hands still clasped within his own, holding him softly. “What’s making a gloomy, sad, edgy emo boy like Nico di Angelo smile? Have I _finally_ cracked the code?” 

“Shut up, you big nerd.” Nico teases, kicking Will’s leg playfully. He gazes upon Will’s figure again, his bare chest, enveloped and painted with thousands and thousands of freckles, how the freckles glow softly against his bare skin, how they paint the picture of a beautiful night sky. “Y’know, you kinda look like the night sky right now.”

It’s wordless, thoughtless, nothing comes to his mind as Will kisses him passionately, the stupid shelf long forgotten, discarded in empty thought. They move in clumsy synchronisation, hands grabbing at the back of necks and tangled in artfully messy black hair. Lips pressed softly against parts of skin, eyes gazing adoringly into each other, hands fumbling in place. It’s a dance, a slow one, clumsy and awkward but so eloquent, so mystical, so magical. It’s all Nico needs and wants, it’s all that keeps his heart thrumming softly.

Will’s lips are tracing his jawline, and they move slowly _up, up, up_ to his face. Will kisses every small feature he has, from the small dusty freckles that spread across his cheeks, from the leftover tiny juvenile bumps of acne that Nico playfully scowls at, from pressing a soft kiss on his nose, his eyelids, the corner of his eyes, the small curve of his lips- Will’s seemed to capture every single detail of his face, memorised it to perfection, painting a caricature of himself with his own lips. 

“I’d love to paint you someday, Sunshine. Even though I can’t paint for shit, and it’ll probably end up in weird splashes of paint and stick figures.” Will expressed quietly, fingers now untangled from Nico’s hands and poking softly at every small freckle Nico had, occasionally booping on his nose. Nico playfully attempts to bite his finger off, tongue poking cheekily at the wagging finger, noticing Will chuckle before continuing to brush his fingers across his freckles. 

“Gods, if I knew how big of a dork you were, Solace, I certainly would have not said yes to dating you.” Nico huffs, pushing Will playfully on the bed, earning a surprised ‘mmph!’ from the latter. He beams at Will, the blonde boy beneath him, his hair now a mess, eyes jubilant with affection, lips slightly swollen, cheeks faintly blushing a pale pink.

“Yeah, but I’m your dork. You’re stuck with me, di Angelo.”

“Fuck off.”

Will only smirks as a response, hands brushing under Nico’s pyjama shirt, fingers brushing against acres of soft skin blended with heapless amounts of tiny scars, tiny scars that come from small incidents, small monsters. They brush against his nipples, fingers dauntlessly playing with the bare skin that laid underneath his shirt. Nico stifles a gasp, eyes blinking in shock, a warm feeling beginning to pool in his gut that he hadn’t ever noticed before. 

“Should I _fuck off_ then, now?” The blonde boy teases, eyebrows arched slightly in a questioning look, edging him for a response. Nico’s whole face is red, flustered and shocked at his body’s response, his heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears, blaring against the soft rustles of the midnight breeze, shocking against the quiet even breathing of Will’s chest. He gives Will a wordless shake of his head, watching as the latter unbuttons his shirt, tugging on it slowly, tossing the shirt to Gods-knows-where, pressing his lips softly to his collarbones again, emitting a soft sigh from him.

“That’s what I thought.” 

Soft skin pressed against skin, miniscule scars littered all over their bodies, sighs echoing after each other like a domino effect, Nico feels at ease, his body slowly relaxing. Will pushes him slightly so that they’re seated in a more comfortable position, their chests pressed against each other, Will’s hands wrapped sweetly around his back, Nico’s hands in his hair, holding onto tufts of sunshiney golden hair, never letting go. Will’s hands move to holding his hips, his lips pressing against his neck, his collarbones, his chest, causing a quiet needy sob to chase out of Nico’s lips, comfortably tired with the situation.

Nico wonders if Will knows what he’s doing to him, the amount of worship, praise, idolisation of his body Will gives to him, skin on skin contact, chests pressed so tightly against each other, heartbeats thumping in sync. It’s like a wordless dance to some love song, the lyrics echoing in his head, the movements slowly performed, brushing against his skin, making small purple-red bruises scatter from his neck to his chest.

He moves his hands to Will’s jeans, the fabric tightly clinging against his crotch, fingers moving hazily to unbutton the latter’s pants. Will’s hands move closer to the bottom of his waist, pressing on the twin dimples that imprinted themselves on his lower back, fingers brushing sneakily downwards, a hand grabbing his ass. Nico groans softly, focusing on getting Will’s jeans off, down down down, discarded and a memory long forgotten.

“Your pants are a bitch to get off.” He mutters, frowning when he tries to tug the jeans lower, the fabric now pooling against Will’s thighs, strong sturdy muscle wrapped against tight denim. Will giggles at his response, lifting his thighs slightly off the bed, pulling off the pants himself as Nico watches silently, his lip bitten anxiously between teeth, waiting for what would come next.

He’s never experienced anything like this, never bothered to ask or mention anything about going further than just kisses pressed lazily against lips, hands held tightly against hands, or bodies pressed soundlessly against bodies. Camp wasn’t a place to exactly ask for advice - when he turned sixteen, Chiron had wordlessly ushered him to watch some orientation film of coming to age, how to properly use certain equipment, what to watch out for, and certain vividly embarrassing diagrams that Nico would love to bathe in the Lethe to forget. 

He watches as Will pulls at the shorts he’s wearing, removing the cotton fabric with ease, a finger tracing his rim, dangerously pulling at the edges of Nico’s seams, just cotton briefs separating the two apart. The groan that leaves Nico’s mouth is purely wanton, full of want and desire, sounding almost desperate and needy, pushing and yearning for more. Will’s hands are gripping tightly on his ass, massaging it in slow circles, lips pressed to the junction between his neck and shoulders, eyes intently studying Nico’s current situation.

“The things I want to do to you, Nico… you drive me so insane everyday.” Words are murmured into his skin, fingers are prodded gently, circles drawn teasingly around his rim, teeth sunken into Will’s shoulder. His mind has to stop, press pause, replay the current situation in his head several times, just to see Will’s eyes flutter with want, dangerous sinful want, that makes the warm feeling in his gut amplify by several times.

Will presses a soft kiss to his forehead and pushes the first finger in slowly, shushing Nico when a ragged breath escapes his lips, eyes closing tightly in bliss, head tilted back at the sudden movement. Nico wonders if this is what Elysium feels like- a chase to the finish line, a chase so powerful, so desperate, so lovingly full of want, like waves crashing on a midnight beach, an enigma within itself. It’s breathtaking, it’s hypnotic, and right now it’s so overwhelming, the way Will slips a second finger in, then works his way within Nico’s insides, moans and soft cries of pleasure spilling past his lips. His back arches when Will’s fingers brush the perfect spot once (damn, Will wasn’t joking when he said he knew his stuff), a soft gasp escaping from him, begging his lover to do it again and again, replaying the moment within his head. 

It’s like a battle, a race, a competition to see who can make the other feel better, and so far Will is winning by a large, undoing Nico bit by bit, exposing the raw seams and threads that make up who he really is. Nico frowns slightly and brushes his hand on Will’s erection, straining against the royal blue underwear, causing the man below him to let out a subtle grunt, hips arching back at his touch. He muses, palm pressed tightly against the area, moving his hand slowly in that direction that makes Will completely undone, watches as Will’s eyelashes flutter in pure ecstasy, chasing the exact same high that he was currently doing.

“I’m gonna die,” Nico breathes loudly, crying out when he feels Will brush his fingers across his spot a few times, abusing the area so much that he feels like he’s going to faint from all this pleasure. “You, William Andrew Solace, you’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.” 

“Gods, Nico. ” Will hums in response, crying out with a lurid moan when Nico continues to brush his fingers, tracing against his erection in a painfully, sinfully tight way. His eyes roll to the back of his head when Nico presses his palm against him harder. Will’s panting heavily, skin sticky with sweat, pressed dangerously close to Nico’s own chest, his heart beating in sync with his own. He can feel the tension building in his stomach, getting so close, so close, so near to the edge. 

He closes his eyes, lets out a painful sigh when Will begins to thrust his fingers in and out rapidly, hips moving in rhythm with the current scenario, eyes welling up with tears. “Will, I’m- I-” He tries to form a coherent sentence, but his mind and body are too focused on chasing this high, walking closer and closer towards the edge, hands pressed needily on Will’s erection, pleasure flooding rapidly and starting to spill.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’ve got you, Nico. It’s alright.” 

Nico breathes out softly, a cry coming to his lips when he feels his consciousness temporarily leave him, a pure whiteness replacing his vision, his briefs now hot and wet and uncomfortably sticky. He focuses on letting Will chase his own high, fingers pressing numbly on Will, stroking quicker and quicker, with more effect and diligence, as Will chants his name like a mantra, a prayer formed on his lips, letting loose too wonderfully.

It’s ethereal, it’s exquisitely and elegantly theirs, their story to tell, their hearts to love, their bodies to worship and pray upon. Nico collapses on Will’s chest, heaving heavily as Will withdraws his fingers, hands returning back to holding Nico, hugging him tightly into a warm embrace. Nico is still shaking slightly, feeling Will draw little lovely circles on his back, tracing out simple words and letters, lips pressed into his neck.

It’s an awkward but comforting pause, a time for both the lovers to recollect and process the current situation. They both catch their breath eventually, Nico’s heavy panting coming to a slow, steady hum, and Will’s rise and fall of his chest slowly returning to normality.

“Fuck, I can’t believe we waited for so long. How the fuck did we manage?” Nico muses, a hand playing with Will’s blonde curls, now matted and pressed to his forehead with damp sweat. He doesn’t care about the dirtiness, the lewdness of the situation, all he cares about is Will, Will and his tight arms holding him, Will’s breathing matching his own, Will’s eyes gazing in his with the most passionate love to ever exist.

“That’s because someone decided to be a shy conservative blushing virgin who shrieked everytime his boyfriend kissed him.” Will retorts cheekily, narrowly missing the small playful slap that Nico hits, landing on his neck instead. 

“Stop being a snarky little shit, Solace. This is supposed to be romantic.” 

“I will stop being a snarky little shit when you stop being one, di Angelo. We’re peas in a pod.”

Nico huffs, arms falling back into playing with Will’s hair, twirling the childish unrestrainable locks into something more wild. He knows what it’s like to finally fall in love, to know the painful yet addictive feeling, to drink his lover’s name and taste it on his lips, like expensive wine.

In this moment, all he can think about is how Will and his hearts are beating in harmony, thrumming together in peace. He closes his eyes, warm to the memory of Will tracing small Greek letters on his back again, so mystically joyful at last.

________________________

**April 20th, 2014**

“Please let this be the last box.” Will huffed, leaning down to place seven books, thick, gingerly, worn and only hanging by their spines. 

The books were worn and in an absolutely devastating condition, pages worn full with notes and random doodles that Nico had drawn while he was bored. They were Will’s medical journals, some jammed into bright red heavy plastic folders, some heavy, wrapped carefully by plastic, held together by countless amounts of Nico’s stitching.

It was a mutual decision by Nico and Will to move out of Camp Half Blood and into an apartment in Manhattan. Sure, the price of the apartment was heavily expensive (Nico paid in very suspicious chunks of gold to a very wary realtor), it wasn’t as luxurious and big as his old cabin, and the neighbours above them always were watching very loud comedy shows at late evening, but it was home, home to Nico and Will, a place for them to reside in, grow older, and fall in love with. 

Maybe someday they would get a house in New Rome. Nico had cheekily suggested the idea only to be met with a furiously blushing Will, who laughed awkwardly and nodded, kissing the side of his cheek. 

They had chosen not to live in New Rome. The offer was sweet and genuine and offered kindly to him by Hazel and Frank, but Will and Nico had other plans, plans so great and wide that Nico was surprised that they could follow through it. Buy an apartment in central New York- close to NYU Grossman, where Will was taking his undergraduate in Biochemistry, and slightly further to NYU’s English Institute, where Nico had been heavily convinced by Piper and Annabeth to enroll in next year’s Literature course. It was close enough to their respective schools, and not too far away from Camp, where they could pay visits to every month or so. Will had spent months and months of meticulous research on apartment hunting, and Nico could only watch mortifyingly as Will held up diagrams and diagrams of route travel, apartment benefits, and added accessories to the apartment.

But they were happy. Grinning when Leo had come in and helped them set up the kitchen, the boy tinkering away madly at the software. Smiling softly when Annabeth taught Nico how to use the television so they could tap into Olympian television shows. Laughing loudly when Will spotted Piper and her girlfriend Shel half asleep on the persian rug Nico had placed underneath their sofa. 

There was a slight problem, however. William Solace was either a freak collector, or his brain was far too large and had an egotistical problem with owning too many books. Boxes and boxes came to their apartment each day, filled to the brim with journals, notes, heavy dictionaries. Nico had laughed when Will groaned about the boxes being too heavy to carry, and sniggered when Will held up two books in his hand, asking Nico which one he should have donated. 

_“You’re so fucking indecisive, Solace. They look the same.”_

_“No? This one is the medical journal on gene malfunctions and a likely cause for every neurological divergence, and this one is a psychological journal, talking about the implications and causes of schizophrenia!”_

Nico could only watch with a sarcastic smile when Will groaned and continued placing his books on the large dark brown bookshelf they owned. Half of it was already filled with numerous and numerous medical journals, some small novels that were jam packed with sticky notes, and some of them included Nico’s favourite Edgar Allen Poe books. They were organised in alphabetical order, which caused Will to frown and shuffle the order of books ever so slightly when it was messed up. This made Nico laugh loudly, covering his mouth with an impish grin. His boyfriend could have been a librarian in his past life.

“Is there anymore, darling?” Will shouted from their bedroom, walking out with an arm full of books that towered all the way up to his nose. “These are for donating- I can’t believe I’m throwing so many out.”

“You’re the one who wanted to bring ‘all his babies’ to our new apartment, Solace.” Nico quipped, laughing when Will frowned and placed the books into a cardboard box. “And yes, you have four boxes to go through, still.” 

“Fuck literature.” Will huffed, crossing his arms. “I knew Lou Ellen was right when she said I was impulsively buying everything.” 

“Tell that to Tim and Tom- or whatever the fuck you named the tiny trees in our living room.” Nico snorted, watching as Will’s face turned a dark red, cheeks blushing vigorously. 

“Take that back, di Angelo. Timothee and Tamas are the greatest babies ever.” 

“You call all your plants babies. I’m starting to think you want children.” 

“Why would I want children when I already have the biggest baby in the universe?” Will joked, kneeling over and pinching Nico’s cheek. Nico felt himself turn crimson, cheeks flaming with an intense vigorousity. It was small things like this that made Nico so happy. Will, with his ever so annoying and present jokes, his love for snarky humor, the way he would stare incenstantly into his hands when he was thinking, the way Will always snorted when Nico couldn’t reach the taller cabinets in their kitchen, the way Will would secretly take pictures of him when he was studying- which then would be deleted by an embarrassed Nico.

“Shut up.” 

“You’re just mad that you’re my biggest baby. Mmh.” Will pressed a kiss to the side of his cheek, then cheekily poked at his nose. Nico frowned playfully, teeth snapping at Will’s finger to bite it off. 

So far, everything in their apartment was perfectly arranged other than the massive boxes of literature they still had to go through. Their living room was perfectly decorated, with pictures hanging on the wall behind the couch, pictures of a very unwilling Nico holding onto Will’s chest when Hazel had tried to get one good picture of them. A picture of the seven, Reyna and him smiling at the gate of Camp Half Blood, the last picture they had ever taken before everyone went their separate ways. A picture of Will, flushing darkly and slightly drunk, face splattered with some golden glitter, cheering at whatever was going on behind the photo. A picture of Jason and Nico, both boys running laps at Camp, glistening with sweat but with brilliant smiles on their faces. A picture of Nico studying, his head in his hands, probably screaming at some stupid Shakespearean plot.

They were all amazing memories, plastered behind the couch, which had small beige cushions placed and a small duvet draped over the edge. Two small trees placed on small mahogany stools, a cluster of mint plants that were perched on the windowsill, big white curtains next to them. The apartment glowed with a faint orange light, emitted by candles and wooden lights on the ceiling, providing them comfort in their new home.

“What do you want to do, now that you’ve given up on stocking the new bookshelf, tesoro?” Nico murmured, watching as Will climbed into his lap, sitting patiently and looking up into his eyes. The blonde boy blinked, biting the corner of his lip, deep in thought. Will played with his hair, tangling his hands into the dark brown curls of the intangible mess, trying to sort out each curl by curl.

“Hmm, sono affamato. Ma non voglio cucinare.” Will trailed, his tone of Italian very questioning. Nico barked a laugh, eyes closed in pure laughter. The blonde had tried to learn some Italian after they shortly started dating, trying to understand every word that Nico had said out of pure anger. He was not very successful at this, but Nico gave the points to the male for at least learning.

“It’s ‘Ho Fame’, Will. You just said ‘I have hunger’.” Nico corrected cheekily, pressing a small finger into Will’s dimples, moving the finger to trace across his freckles. Will pouted, an angry expression on his face, but Nico knew he didn’t mean it. The boy rolled himself off Nico’s lap, landing with a small thud on the wooden floor- Will was known for being extremely clumsy to no extent. 

“Fuck Italian. You wanna dance?” Will sighed, reaching for his phone in his pocket. 

“Our first week here, and all you want to do is to dance?” Nico retorted jokingly, raising a brow at the question. Will surprised him every single time- the boy always had surprises hidden at the back of his mind, like their first dating anniversary, when Will had placed a small picnic for them to enjoy at the docks, watching the naiads swim silently in the dark night, that time when he walked up to the Big House and saw Will and Hazel dancing crazily on Dance Dance Revolution, feet snapping loudly on the machine and hitting multiple scores. That one time when Will surprised him, opening him up and leaving him completely at mercy to Will’s touch, making Nico see stars in his vision.

“What can I say? I like dancing.” Will pressed play on some random song, the catchy melodic beat making Nico raise a brow. It was melodic, slowed and the beat was energetic but slowed, giving him the small idea to stand up and move slowly with Will. 

“This is bachata, I can’t dance- Will!” Nico shrieked as he was pulled into Will’s grasp, the blonde boy smoothly placing his hands around Nico’s waist, swaying to the quick music. Will was energetic, the boy swaying to the music slowly, giggling as he grabbed one of Nico’s hands and turned him. 

“C’mon, you can do it. Let’s go!” Will cheered, stepping sideways and watching as Nico dropped his mouth, gaping slightly. He had never danced properly, and yet Will, sunshiney stubborn Will Solace, wanted to dance his heart out to some Spanish song. Nico awkwardly tried to follow Will’s footsteps, laughing earnestly when the boy stepped on him twice, gigglish apologies ringing through the apartment. 

“Oh my gods- I can’t believe you’re trying to get me to dance.” Nico huffed, placing his arms on Will’s shoulders, trying to mimic Will’s moves by gradually following the pattern. The dance seemed simple- two steps to the left then to the right, and his hips slowly followed the pattern, a cheeky smile on Will’s face once he got it right.

“Wait till I tell everyone that you, Nico di Angelo, goth emo boy, dance to bachata with his boyfriend when no one’s watching.”

“Shut up, Solace!”

_Confírmame_

_¿Qué me enciende en el sexo?_

_¿Qué me encanta de tu cuerpo?_

_Nuestra primer aventura_

Nico giggled as Will spun him, his mind going light, vision slightly buzzing from the slight dizziness. He was euphoric, enjoying the calm moment as Will spun him. It was as if all his worries were far gone, all disappearing and making him calm at heart, happy and serendipic. He watched as Will accidentally stepped on his toe again, a small grimace coming out of the older male, biting his lip in concentration.

“Something tells me I’m the better dancer out of the both of us.” Nico quipped.

“Shut up, I’m trying!”

_Quiero detalles_

_¿Será tu cuello o el ombliguito_

_Tu punto favorito?_

_Porque yo sí sé cual es_

Nico remembers the last time he had properly danced. His hand was on his sister’s waist, the older girl swaying as their instructor counted the beats. It was awkward, humorous and clumsy. Nico had certainly not known the dangers of the world back then. But now, with Will, he felt like the scenario gave him a small sense of deja vu, as if he was experiencing the similar situation again, only that there was no teacher to yell at their movements, no judgement in the world, just him and Will, dancing to some Spanish song at seven in the evening.

The world felt so right to him now, and everything seemed so perfect. There would be times where it would collapse and shudder underneath his fingers, but Nico knew that as long as he had Will with him, everything would be perfect, and it would be alright at the end. 

He watched as the stars in the night sky shone brighter than ever on the apartment window, a gentle smile coming to his face. He was safe, safe amongst the stars, safe amongst his own star, William Solace.

_Si en verdad eres la original_

_Demuéstramelo ahora_

________________________

**December 18th, 2015.**

It’s the last time he’ll ever see his therapist, and Nico is slightly- if not completely - bittersweet at the fact that his journey here has come to a small ending. He’s spent nearly four years in this building, sitting in a grey couch that has small dried tear marks from the times he’s cried on the couch, leaning against the glass windows.

The recorder next to him beeps, and it draws him back to the present. The present, where he has come so far to, endured so many hardships, so many deaths and losses, so much pain, to be shone the beauty of the present. People often comment on how beautiful the future will be if they work hard, but Nico refuses to believe that ideology. It’s the present that’s absolutely ethereal, how it wraps him shockingly in all the power that it could give to him, how he can enjoy every living breathing loving moment. 

“Do you regret anything you’ve done, Nico?” His therapist- Raveena Smith, a daughter of Calliope asks him, a quizzical look on her face. Nico knows better not to dwell on the past, on all the actions he has done, but to face the future in it’s brightest glory, in all that it gives to him.

“No. I don’t regret anything. There may have been times where I fucked up horribly, but I’ve gotten back on my feet. I don’t regret any of my actions.” He determines strongly, and with the smile on Raveena’s face, he knows he’s answered correctly.

“Good. With that ending note, Nico, you can stop mandated counselling sessions with a request. It’s been a pleasure working with you.” She smiles, pausing the recording on her phone, and Nico lets out a sigh that he doesn’t know he’s been holding. He smiles at Raveena, tries to shake her hand without all the bundle of nerves collapsing around him, and leaves the dimly lit room. 

Will is waiting for him at the receptionist’s area, the boy buried in a novel, a cup of coffee next to him. The present looks so beautiful to him, in the shape of Will’s face, his eyes, his nose, his lips, the way he dances, the way he sings quietly, the way he heals.

William Solace is Nico di Angelo’s present, and he wants to thank the Fates forever for giving him such a wonderful time to live in.

“I brought you coffee. Then I drank some of it.” The blonde laughs, slinging an arm around his shoulders, a soft smile on his face. “How was the session?”

“I’m free now. Or whatever. Now, we can go on dates during Fridays.” 

Will cheers, pumping his fist into the air. The receptionist glares at them with a wary look, and Will turns a slight shade of red, slightly embarrassed. Nico laughs at how stupid Will looks in his eyes.

His past is gone, gone forever, and he cannot change any of that. However, as the night stars gleam softly and as the breeze ruffles against their heavy winter coat, Nico knows that the present and the future- that is all up to him to write. The pen is in his hands, and all he needs to do is live his destiny the best way he can, the best way anyone could.

He laughs when Will takes his hand and drags him to the nearest bookstore, complaining about how another one of his siblings released a medical journal and now he has to be bored to death with the novel.

## PART IV / THE STARS ARE ALIGNED

**December 18th, 2017.**

The ceremony was beautiful. 

Officiated on the docks of Camp Jupiter, where Percy had first landed when he arrived in New Rome. The cold December air seemed to be more relenting, the sun was slowly setting into the auburn sky, dusty pink clouds shifting slowly in the sky, eagles circling the sky, in search for a place to rest. Surprisingly, no one objects when Rachel decides to officiate the wedding- which is _only a little bit_ ironic, Nico thinks. 

He watches silently as his best friends smile and murmur their vows and promises to each other, hands clasped tightly together. Nico feels calm for once in his life- it feels as if a new chapter is turning slowly in his life, the pages being slowly flicked. It’s serendipitous to watch the whole scene unfold in front of him- his loved ones all reunited, all happy on this rare day, smiles genuine and without fear. 

Rachel laughs as Percy and Annabeth move forwards to kiss each other softly, Percy’s arms tightening around her waist, Annabeth’s hands gently looped around his neck. Nico can’t believe it. The tranquility of the scene, as the waves lap softly over the beach, as tiny demigod children giggle and blush at the couple kissing, as the sun slowly sets over the lovers, the sky turning a brilliant shade of orange-lilac. 

He felt that all was right with the world. In this fleeting moment, in this time that will pass as like sand trickling down an hourglass, in this time where everything slows to a halt and feels so serene, so ataraxic. He breathes softly, hands reaching to pinch his own skin, just to have a small check with reality, when he sees Will.

Will, seated on the second row, his eyes shining with love and admiration, his hands clasped together softly, lips pursing, deep in thought. It’s times like these that Nico freely appreciates Will, wants to whip out a canvas and paint his lover in hues of bright orange and pale yellow. How Will’s dimples curve in when he smiles, how his skin is always tanned and soft to the touch, how his hair always smells like vanilla, how his eyes crinkle slightly when he laughs, how his ears go red when someone teases him, how his nose scrunches when he’s concentrating on saving a life. Will, the love of his life, the man he goes to when he’s feeling a little too numb with the world, the best friend he goes to when he wants to play a round of Super Smash Bros, the medic he goes to when he gets scratched by a monster, the soulmate he comes home to every single night.

He focuses on Will again- laughing silently when he sees Will lowering his head to talk to a younger demigod that he had rescued on a mission. Will’s head turns back up and their eyes meet- and the grin that Will gives him is enough to confirm that _yes, this is reality, this is happening right now, he will be safe as long as a certain blonde haired blue eyed boy is pressed against his chest._

________

The afterparty is a success. They’re seated in the forum, tables set on the ground and food being brought out by several lares. The lares go silent around him, try to sneak past him slowly. He feels anger bubbling silently in his stomach, the feeling of being unwanted and tossed the side being all too familiar, but Will interlocks their fingers together under the table, and the negative feelings cowardly crouch back to where they belonged. 

Chatter erupts amongst the wooden mahogany tables, and Nico joins in some of the conversations, offering words of congratulations and advice here and there. Piper talks excitedly about her acceptance letter from FIT excitedly, how within three years, she’ll graduate with an undergraduate's degree in Fine Arts. Hazel, with a smile worthy of a praetor’s, blushes humbly when he questions her about her plans for the future, and informs him of her plans to continue to lead the Romans, while starting a side business for making jewelry. He scares Annabeth’s cousin, Magnus, when he tries to figure out how Magnus looks so alive even though he’s technically dead. Will laughs at the scene, telling the fellow blonde that his boyfriend tended to geek out at these ‘deathly’ circumstances. 

_Boyfriend_ , a word that Will casually brushes out that makes him blush to the core. Nico’s secretly a romantic, which is something he’ll probably never admit to anyone, even on his deathbed. He turns a rigorous shade of red when he realises that he’s been dating Will for a good four years now, nearing their fifth in a few months' time. 

He still can’t get used to Will’s presence, even over the memories, the laughter, the tears, the fear they’ve shared together. He blushes when Will walks out of their bathroom in the morning, a towel loosely wrapped around his lower half. He stammers when Will places a hand on the nape of his neck while talking to another demigod. He’s rosy-red when Will intertwines their hands on a date, Will’s thumb playing with his knuckles. He turns crimson when Will takes off his shirt and picks him up effortlessly, lips locked and hands hold tightly on Will’s hair, tantalising words of lust murmured into his ear. 

He’ll never get used to the everlasting love Will gives him, and he swears on the River Styx that he’ll love him back, unconditionally.

Standing up slightly, he looks at Will- who gives him a nod of encouragement. He’s ready. He can do this.

He taps his glass of champagne slightly, frozen when heads turn over to him, peering up in curiosity. He clears his throat and mentally thinks about the script he planned, that he memorised word for word and thinks, _fuck it_.

“I’ll be completely honest here- I think my ten year old heart is dying with jealousy, because nothing hurts more than watching your childhood crush marry the woman he’s always loved. ” He starts, huffing childishly and getting a chorus of laughter from older campers, ones who’ve known him since the moment he stepped in Camp. He smiles, heart racing. Percy’s face is an absolute scarlet from second hand embarrassment of the shitty jokes he’s made about no longer being Nico’s type, and Annabeth’s hand is over her lips, trying to hide a snarky giggle.

“But now, looking back, Percy and Annabeth were more like the parents I never had. Because when you have a God and a dead mother as parents, you get your birthday presents packaged neatly in the form of deathly quests.” Nico continues, words tumbling out of him effortlessly, causing the crowd below him to quiet down, conversation ceasing to a limit. He sends a shaky smile towards Will, who holds his hand and squeezes it softly, encouraging the latter to continue.

“So, I wanted to say thank you. Perce. Thank you for saving the life of a clueless ten year old boy, for coping with the annoying ass I was then. Thank you for still trusting me to this day, after so many times I’ve betrayed you for my own gain. Thank you for letting me crash in your apartment on the days I felt like the sky was too grey, and I couldn’t breathe. Thank you for finding me that night on the beach. You, Perseus Jackson, are the most loyal man I’ve ever met, a man who never abandons his friends, his comrades in a time of need. I love you for that, man.” He calculates his words slowly, making sure that he placed the amount of emotion he was feeling into his sentences.

He thinks about Percy, the warrior who had once guided him on Apollo’s chariot, the friend who had refused to let Nico stay at Triple G Ranch, the male who had consoled Nico after every waking nightmare, the man who had found Nico, barely alive on the beach, with his wrists pooling out dark waves of blood and Percy, teeth-grittingly, refused to let go of him. He watches as Percy goes silent with each word he mutters, the male holding Annabeth’s hand a little tighter, his eyes brimming with slight tears. The crowd goes silent even more, until all Nico can hear is the crickets chirping in the December night, the wind whooshing slightly around him, and the soft whispering of spirits in the air. 

“Beth, Annabeth. I may have been _slightly_ jealous of you at the start of our friendship, but that’s all left in the dust. I’m so thankful for you. Your words, the way you pry yourself into research the moment you realised what I was going through, the way you don’t speak when we run laps through Camp at two in the morning, the way you convinced me to head to my first therapy session. The way you notice miniscule things in life, hold on to them, and never let go. That is your best quality, ’Beth. I am so grateful to have someone like you in my life.” Nico laughs, softly, nodding towards Annabeth, who looked a little misty eyed as well, squeezing Percy’s hand back tightly. 

“So, here’s to my pseudo mom and dad, to the most loyal people I’ve ever met, to my dearest best friends. Happy marriage, you two. Please don’t let Will take care of your offspring, he gets nuts around children.” He jokes, watching as the crowd lights up into thunderous applause, each face joyed and moved tremendously at his speech. Will pulls him down to his seat and kisses him passionately- earning a small yelp of shock out of himself. 

As people finish clapping at his speech, watching as Grover stands up and starts talking about how agonising it was to watch Percy and Annabeth fall in love with each other, Percy walks up to Nico, a soft smile on the older male’s lips. “They would be so proud of you, Nico. Bianca would be so overjoyed that her little brother has come out of his shell. And Jason. Jason would be so amazed at the changes you’ve made within yourself.”

“It took ten years, Perce. I’m a slow learner.” Ten years. Ten years of discovering himself as a young child, then losing everything he’s built, then slowly gathering all the broken shards and slowly, slowly but surely, restructuring his own story, building it to be a pillar of indestructible beauty. 

Nico smiles warmly at Percy, looking up at the night sky above them. The indigo sky seems to twinkle at them, basking them in the soft starlight. He can make out the constellation of a huntress running amongst several others, her brown hair tucked under a green flowy cap. A soft breeze flows around Nico, enveloping him in a cool hug, brushing a stray curl on his forehead back in place. Bianca and Jason, his sister and his best friend, who would watch over his every move, his life, his story. 

The stars shine brightly on him tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> started ; 210221  
> ended ; 110321  
> this fic is the love of my life. it's been such a wonder writing this - i've edited a lot of scenes out, removed a lot of parts for a smoother plot. im sorry if u guys wanted more !! i kno it might have been a LITTLE bit of a short fic, but this took me nearly 3? 4? weeks to finish. im hella tired and failing some of classes for it. 
> 
> add me on discord if u wanna yell at me for writing this !! paige#6293
> 
> some thank-yous:  
> will - HEY SHAWTYBAE!! thank you for telling me to start this fic. thank you for reading shit over and over for me.  
> paxie - LOL ur the first person i ever sent a full scene to. thanks 4 always being by my side  
> nakia - AYYYYY wsg!! thanku sm for cheerin me on. nakia does some pretty splendid fics as well pls check her out <3  
> ghost gang server - for ALWAYS cheerin me up no matter what. love yall
> 
> thank you for reading. love u guys sm.


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